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THE THREE APPRENTICES 


OF 

MOON STREET 

$ 


FROM THE FRENCH OF 

GEORGES MONTORGUEIL 


WITH I L LUSTRA TIONS BY LOUIS LE REVEREND AND 

PAUL STECK 

V 






NEW YORK: 46 East 14TH Street 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 

BOSTON : 100 Purchase Street 


\ 




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Copyright, 1895, 

By Thomas Y. Crowell & Company. 

4 


^Tspograplja 

BY C. J. PETERS AND SON, 

Boston. 


^resstoork 

BY JOHN WILSON AND SON, 

Cambridge, 



4 

CONTENTS. 


Chapter Page 

1 . “ Apprentice WANTED ” 7 

II. Mother Bonnet i8 

III. Johnnie 29 

IV. John 38 

V. Jack 51 

VI. Jack plays Tricks 61 

VII. Bisquine 72 

VIII. The Broken Bough 84 

IX. A Game of Marbles 104 

X. Bisquine on the Trail 112 

XI. John’s Savings 120 

XII. The Robbery 125 

XIII. The Thief discovered 134 

XIV. Escape 143 




6 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter 

XV. 
XVI. 
XVII. 
XVIII. 
XIX. 
XX. 
XXI. 
XXII. 
XXIII. 
XXIV. ^ 
XXV. 
XXVI. 
XXVII. 
XXVIII. 
XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 
Epilogue 


Page 


At the Gingerbread Fair 149 

Away to the Country 194 

Theodulus 201 

A Strange Animal 209 

By Permission of the Mayor 217 

SuzETTE 224 

Left Alone 231 

Theodulus’s Gluttony 238 

Zany at Liberty 245 

A General in Petticoats 250 

In Pursuit of the Monkey 256 

Old Grigou’s Sorrow 265 

Hours of Anguish 276 

A Visit to the Mayor 281 

SuZETTE IS FOUND 288 

At the Neuilly Fair 299 

Great Excitement in Moon Street 307 

• 316 



\ 



I. 

APPRENTICE 
WANTED.” 

There are a great many beautiful 
streets in Paris, but among them all 
Moon Street is not by any means the 
most lovely. It is short, narrow, and 
roughly paved. The buildings are poor 
y old things, which only hold themselves 
upright by a miracle, and they lean 
upon one another as if they were trying 
their best to keep each other up. The 
pretty moon, shining like a bit of new 
silver, and letting fall its pure, soft radiance upon 
us, cannot be greatly flattered at being godmother to 
a thoroughfare of such sorrowful aspect and of such 
doubtful reputation. I warrant you, however, that little 
as you may know of Paris, and infrequent as may have 
been your rambles there, you know something of this 


8 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


little Street. Memories of other streets far more mag- 
nificent and more often frequented may have faded from 
your mind ; but you remember Moon Street, and I will 



tell you why, — you 
are little epicures, and you 
are fond of those delicate bits of pastry 
which we call hioche. 

Now, on this very thoroughfare, — this was a long, 
long time ago, — a worthy man, clad as a pastry-cook 
in dazzling white, took up his station, and spent his 


APPRENTICE wanted: 


9 


days wielding a great knife, with which he cut his con- 
fections to any size you wished, and because of his 
persistent industry was known everywhere about as 
'' Father Cut-all-day.” His rival in Moon Street has 
carved for me many a delicate slice, and I have a very 
firm recollection of him even to this day ; for I should 
be an ingrate indeed if, because I had lost my love 
for pastry, I lost also remembrance of the pleasure 
that it gave me when I had not lost my love. 

Not far from this sweet-smelling place, and in the 
same street, are the workshops of a jewellery-maker 
bearing the sign of '' The Gold Bracelet.” At the 
entrance, on two great copper shields one reads : — 

MAISON DUPONT. 

JEWELLERY OF ALL KINDS : BRACELETS A SPECIALTY. 

UP THREE FLIGHTS AT THE REAR. 

A kindly hand, stamped in black on the glittering 
copper, points out the direction that one must follow, 
to reach the salesrooms and workshop. 

On this particular day a young lad came out from 
the rear alley. He was bareheaded, and wore a blouse 
of black cambric. A single glance showed that he 
was not only an apprentice, but a jeweller’s appren- 
tice. In fact, it was Johnnie from Mr. Dupont’s. 


lO THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

In his hand he held a small square of paper, cov- 
ered with fresh paste on the back, and ready to be 
posted up on one of the copper shields. Just as 
he was about to fix it in place, his attention was dis- 
tracted by a dog-fight which was going on in the street, 
and he paused to help it along a little. At this mo- 
ment one of the tenants in the building was passing 
down the steps. Johnnie had not seen him ; and 
turning suddenly with outstretched hand, he brought 
the placard right against the gentleman’s coat, ex- 
actly in the middle of his back. It stuck fast. 
When Johnnie finally realized what he had done, the 
gentleman was already far down the street. He 
started in pursuit. 

Mister ! Mister ! You are carrying away my sign ! ” 

But the gentleman was preoccupied, did not hear 
the call, and went on his way. 

Johnnie ought to have been ashamed at his misad- 
venture, but I am sorry to say that he manifested no 
indications of any such feeling. The disrespectful 
scamp burst out laughing at the sight of this poor 
man, who was going bravely about his business with 
a square of paper on his back bearing these words : — 


APPRENTICE WANTED. 
(speedy promotion.) 


APPRENTICE wanted: 


I I 

Beg pardon, sir, what have you there ? ” asked 
the janitor, leading him before a mirror. 

When the gentleman saw the inscription he was 
naturally angry ; first, because his coat had been 
soiled, and secondly, because he had been made ridic- 



ulous by going about as a w^alking advertisement 
without being paid for his services. 

Johnnie stopped laughing when the angry gentle- 
man came back toward him with a threatening 
gesture. 

“You rascal! You’ll stick posters on my back, 
will you } ” 


12 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


He caught the lad by the ears, not a difficult 
thing to do, as Johnnie’s ears, in distinction from his 
wits, were rather long. The heedless fellow wept, 
supplicated, excused himself in every possible way, 
and was on the whole very pathetic. He gave a 
plausible though somewhat confused explanation. 

I don’t know how it happened — I was trying to 
put the sign — on the door-post — and then ” — 

And then my back got it, instead of the door- 
post.” The fingers tightened on the prisoner’s ear. 
His peril inspired Johnnie to an idea which was his 
salvation. 

‘‘ Mister ! ” he cried, while you are holding me 
by the ear the paste is drying.” 

'' That is very true,” said the gentleman, letting go 
of his captive. ‘‘Take it off quick.” 

“You won’t beat me .^ ” 

“ Eh } No ; but hurry up.” 

“ Sure you won’t } ” 

“ No ; but see here, you rascal, that thing is dry- 
ing on.” 

Johnnie made the attempt, but the paste had done 
its duty ; the paper stuck fast. He could only get 
off one little corner. It was too late. Very indig- 
nant, the gentleman was obliged to go up to his 


AFFI^ENTICE WANTED: 


13 


quarters, adorned like a wall on which one is forbid- 

( 

den to post any bills. 

At the top of the first flight, through the windows 



of the stairway looking upon the court, the gentleman 
signalled to Johnnie threateningly. The young scamp, 
who was now out of reach of immediate punishment, 


14 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


simply laughed. His hilarity was roughly cut short. 
A deep, well-known voice made him turn round all 
of a tremble. 

Stupid and full of tricks as ever ! ” said the big 
voice. 

'' O Mr. Griffin,” stammered the apprentice, “ I 
give you my word, I didn’t do it on purpose.” 

Didn’t do it on purpose, eh } ” said Mr. Griffin, the 
foreman of the workshops, in his deep voice ; ‘‘ was it 
not on purpose that you laughed just now at your 
heedlessness and insolence } No, my boy ; you shall 
be punished for this. You were to have an afternoon 
off, but you shall keep to your work. There are some 
nails to be sorted — you shall give your time to that. 
Meanwhile, you must repair the fault you have com- 
mitted. As for the poster, that is of minor importance. 
You will politely ask the clerk to make another one for 
you. As regards the gentleman whom you have in- 
sulted, you will not get off so easily. You will go at 
once to his rooms and beg his pardon.” Johnnie hesi- 
tated. Mr. Griffin said in a grave and masterful tone, 
‘‘At once, I told you.” 

“ But I don’t know where he lives, sir,” said the 
apprentice, who counted upon this fact to secure his 
release from a disagreeable task. 


APPRENTICE wanted: 


15 


Lift your eyes, lad.” 

Johnnie looked up at the fifth story. He saw the 
tenant impatiently trying with a moistened sponge to 
soak off the poster which had dishonored the back of 
his coat. 

You see where he may be found — go immediately. 
It is not a pleasant duty, but it may help you to avoid 
worse things in the future.” 

Johnnie obeyed slowly, with bended head and down- 
cast air, turning from time to time to see if the watch- 
ful Mr. Griffin was still there. Mr. Griffin was always 
there. Johnnie fetched a profound sigh, indicative of 
supreme resolution. Fm in for it ! ” he said. And 
a moment later he rang at the gentleman’s door. What 
took place at this interview } When he came down he 
was singing like a lark. His face had resumed its 
wonted cheerful expression. He was the outward and 
visible sign of the consciousness of a fault atoned 
for. 

If it had not been for this interview which Mr. Grif- 
fin had so wisely insisted upon, what would have been 
the result } Johnnie would never have dared to ven- 
ture in the neighborhood of the person he had injured. 
When the latter made his appearance, the lad would 
have been frightened and ashamed, and would have got 


1 6 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

out of sight of his indignant victim as quickly as pos- 
sible. The remembrance of the wrong he had done 
would have been a perpetual reproach. But now that 
he had sought and obtained pardon, his conscience was 

at peace, and his mis- 
conduct was not to be 
remembered with feel- 
ings of remorse, but 
as a lesson. 

A new sign was 
made ; and in giving it 
to Johnnie the clerk 
said, ‘‘Here, giddy- 
head ; look out and 
don’t go wrong again. 
This is not for post- 
ing up on people’s 
backs, because I have 
got a little work of 
my own to do, and if 
you interrupt me again. I’ll paste something over the 
end of your nose.” 

Johnnie was careful this time, and pasted the pa- 
per on the copper shield, “Apprentice Wanted,” writ- 
ten in a bold, fancy hand, with superb flourishes, for 



APPRENTICE WANTED. 


17 


the clerk was rather proud of his chirography ; that, 
to be sure, was about his only merit, but he had that. 
If he had not learned to write well at school, what 
would he have been good for, since without this 
accomplishment he would not have been good for 
anything } 


i8 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


II. 

MOTHER BONNET. 

Scarcely had the placard been posted up, when it 
was read by at least a hundred persons ; first by the 

curious, who read ev- 
erything simply for 
the pleasure of read- 
ing ; then by the un- 
employed, who are 
always at a loss to 
know what to do in 
order that they may 
not do anything ; 
then by interested 
people, — workmen 
out of work, or par- 
ents looking for a place to apprentice their chil- 
dren. 

An old woman, neatly but poorly clad, saw the poster 
as she was passing along the street. She tried to deci- 



MOTHER BONNET. 


19 


pher it ; but her eyes were sixty years old, and were not 
good at reading. She called to some small boys who 
were playing marbles, — 

Come here, boys ; your sight is good. Won’t you 
please read what is written there ? ” 

One of the boys looked at her with a droll and 
sheepish air. There Up there.? Well, it says — 
it says — I don’t know how to read.” 

And he was nine years old ! That’s what it is to go 
to school in the streets. 

The aged dame took her spectacles from her basket, 
put them astride her nose, and managed to learn the 
import of the clerk’s beautiful penmanship. The task 
accomplished, she folded up her spectacles, put them 
back in their case, and said, — 

‘^This will be just the thing for little John. He 
wants to be a jeweller. I’ll go right off and tell his 
folks about it.” 

She was hurrying along at a short-gaited trot, when 
an exclamation in a voice as worn as her own made 
her turn about, — 

Why, it’s Mother Christian ! ” 

Mother Christian looked earnestly into the other 
woman’s face. Ah, she had a good ways to go for 
her recollections ! Her memory was as weak as her 


20 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


eyes, and they have not invented spectacles for the 
memory. At length, however, she made out who it 
was. 



‘‘For the land’s sake, it’s Mam’ Bonnet. How we 
do meet, to be sure ! ” 

Mother Bonnet was the best woman in the world. 


MOTHER BONNET 


21 


In saying this no wrong is done to others. The best 
woman in the world, like the bravest man in the 
world, is fortunately a very numerous person. 

Mother Bonnet owned to her sixty years. She had 
been nurse to Mr. Dupont, the jeweller. Yes; that 
great bearded man, now getting gray, once had a 
nurse. The child beyond the need of her care, she 
had remained with the family, making their joys and 
sorrows her own, and serving them with a fidelity 
which, if a little rough, was always very, very sincere. 

One by one Mr. Dupont’s relatives left him. One 
day the jeweller found himself sadly alone in the 
world, with no one to look after him but this good 
woman, who had nourished him in his infancy, and 
had become a sort of foster-mother. He let her 
stay on. She was his servant ; but he would will- 
ingly have been a servant to her if their positions 
had been reversed, so much he thought of her. He 
never called her anything but My good Mother 
Bonnet ; ” and, for her part, she simply adored her 
Mr. Charles.” 

She adored also, — that was her only weakness, but 
who has not at least one } — she adored also ‘‘ La 
Moune.” La Moune was a cat, and was very hand- 
somely attired. Nature had given her a magnificent 


22 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


suit of furs in three colors that harmonized marvel- 
lously well. Is it necessary to add that she was some- 
what vain, and that her stately walk had just the 
slightest affectation of coquetry 1 La Moune was in- 
separable from Mother Bonnet, who was often alone 
in the house, and she was such excellent company. 
When Mother Bonnet sat down to her sewing. La 
Moune would draw near nonchalantly and take her 
place close by, her four paws gracefully aligned, her 
head up, her nose black as a truffle, and sticking out 
between her small sharp teeth a dainty bit of rose- 
tinted tongue, which she seemed to be too indolent 
to draw back into place. Thus she would sit and 
purr, revealing her contentment' in her green-tinted 
eyes, which were flecked with gold, and which she 
kept half-closed. 

La Moune was altogether too well brought up ever 
to weary Mother Bonnet. Her small brain had assim- 
ilated the idea that if she wanted to make herself 
welcome in a house she must cultivate the qualities 
of good companionship. She was not given to mak- 
ing blunders of any sort, and her supple majesty of 
bearing did not invite reprimands. Madame Bonnet, 
indulgent as she was to her dainty fellow-lodger, would 
have been very much disturbed if La Moune had 


MOTHER BONNET. 


23 


failed to show proper respect for the laws of hospi- 
tality, and had interfered with the smooth working of 
the domestic machinery. If you want to be loved, be 
amiable — that is a truth that applies even to cats. 

No assertive claws, no thefts of any account, none 
of those little overt acts which upset households ; 
at the most a tap of 
the paw on a spool of 
thread that had fallen 
to the floor, — that was 
La Moune. Moreover, 
she seemed to be pos- 
sessed of very endear- 
ing qualities. She’s 
my companion,” Mother 
Bonnet would say. ‘‘ I 
know by the way in 
which she washes herself whether it is going to rain 
or not, and simply by looking in her eyes I can tell 
what time it is.” 

If Mother Bonnet was rather exacting in regard to 
La Moune, it was because in spite of her considerable 
age she was a model of neatness. Her kitchen was 
polished until it shone, and her pots and kettles were 
like full-blown suns. How did she find the time to 



24 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


do all that ? How did she find the strength ? She 
wanted to do it. To want to do a thing does not 
give you the power to do it, but it is certainly half 
the battle. In her person, which was apparently much 
the worse for wear, dwelt a fund of energy which 
many a youth might have envied. She never wasted 
her time or her pains ; she rose with the chickens, 
— old people never like to lie abed ; and when at 
nightfall, bent and broken, she trotted by the house, 
she had no fear except for idlenesss, — the foe that 
makes peevish days, long hours, and an empty and 
tiresome existence. 

It is only fair to confess that she grumbled a little. 
One does not attain to half a century and ten years 
over without having one’s little prejudices. But her 
grumbling was always good-natured ; sometimes even 
her reproaches were only the result of tender affection. 
It was only to warn Mr. Charles not to go out with- 
out his muffler in the winter season ; and if he had 
been out without his muffler, to warn him of the fact 
when he came in. 

‘‘You won’t be satisfied till you get me to mak- 
ing gruel for you ! ” which, being properly translated, 
meant, “ It always makes me sorry to see you ill ! ” 

The jeweller was not dull of comprehension ; and 


MOTHER^ BONNET. 


25 


when she grumbled in this way he would say to the 
grumbler, — 

‘‘What a dear good mother you are, Mother Bon- 
net ! ” 

Everybody in the Dupont establishment thought 
the world of her, and she was kindness itself to 
them all. If a workman were suddenly taken ill, she 
ran to him with one of her simple, womanish reme- 
dies, which one is wrong to despise. She kept her- 
self informed all about their children, for children 
were her joy. Ah, if Mr. Dupont had only married, 
what pleasure it would have been to her to act the 
part of guardian angel at the cradle! For want of a 
better object, she expended her sympathy upon the 
apprentices. Mr. Griffin maintained that she petted 
them altogether too much for their own good. 

They ran little errands for her, fetched water, — run- 
ning water had not yet been brought into all parts of 
buildings, — and rendered her many of those little ser- 
vices which cost them nothing and were, in fact, a 
pleasant distraction from toil. She paid them, not in 
money, but in motherly attentions, in sweetmeats, — 
she excelled in making crystallized green-gage plums, — 
in cups of chocolate (don’t you think it’s better than 
coffee } ) which she put aside for them, and in fruit 


26 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


which she slipped into their pockets, — juicy apricots, 
luscious, tawny pippins, and delicious, melting pears. 

‘‘You pet them too much. Mother Bonnet,” Mr. 
Dupont would say. “ I sha’n’t be able to do anything 
with them.” 

“Poor little chaps,” she would reply; “is it a crime 
to give them little dainties when they have been good 
That’s the way you were treated, Mr. Charles ; it’s 
natural to treat them that way too.” 

At that time Johnnie was the only apprentice 
in the shop, and he was not equal to all that had to 
be done. So they put up a notice for another, and 
that is why Mother Christian had thought of little 
John. 

When the two good old women had revived their 
acquaintance, and had testified to their pleasure at 
seeing each other after the lapse of seventeen years ; 
after they had told one another that little so and so 
was married, that little such and such was an employer, 
that this one formerly so lively was beginning to feel 
his age ; that another who had formerly possessed such 
fine eyesight could not see without glasses ; when 
they had italicised anecdotes and recollections of dif- 
ferent signs of the march of time, punctuating their 
remarks with such phrases as, “Ah, we’re no longer 


MOTHER BONNET. 


27 


as young as we were, Mother Christian ! or, Ah, 
we’re getting along in years. Mother Bonnet ! ’’ — after 
all this they began to talk about the present. 

I see they want an apprentice at the shop,” said 
Mother Christian. I know just the one for the 
place — a perfect treasure, a child of neighbors of 
mine — good honest people — excellent to my way of 
thinking — as good as bread. John is the boy’s 
name. Say a good word for him. Mother Bonnet, to 
Mr. Dupont. I should be so happy to have him in a 
place near you. I am sure you will never repent of 
it, for I can give him the highest possible recom- 
mendation.” 

All right,” responded Mother Bonnet, nodding her 
head understandingly, all right. Send your little 
friend to us, but don’t lead him to expect too much. 
When it comes to children, I can’t endure too much 
from them ; I am inclined to make them toe the mark. 
What can you expect 1 I’m getting old. But Mr. 
Dupont is such a worthy man ! ” 

''Oh, thank ’ee, thank ’ee,” said Mother Christian, 
laughing a little jerky laugh, and showing her gums 
where only one tooth remained where once there had 
been thirty-two, " oh, thank ’ee, thank ’ee. I’ll fly 
and tell them.” 


28 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


When she said ‘‘fly,” that was her way of talking, 
and after all she meant what she said. The thought 
that she was a bearer of good news, and could do some- 
thing for somebody, gave her poor old legs an elasticity 
of which she had long thought them incapable. 


JOHNNIE. 


29 


III. 

JOHNNIE. 

Johnnie was delighted to think that there was going 
to be a new apprentice. Was it because he thought 
he would have a companion of his own age, a comrade, 
another self, to whom he could confide his hopes and 
griefs } He was a youth living among men who did 
not comprehend the trials and tribulations of a lad of 
fourteen ; he would have given much to recount them, 
but there were no ears indulgent enough to listen to 
his tale. That was pitiable ; for there is no trouble 
which is not half assuaged by being confided to an 
affectionate and sympathetic friend. Did Johnnie 
hope to find such a friend in the new-comer } 

Or since the rendering of service to others is so 
pleasant, especially when one is very young and the 
occasions for it are rare, perhaps Johnnie hoped to 
have the satisfaction of helping on the new apprentice, 
of encouraging him, of giving him a little useful knowl- 
edge. Having learned through his own experience and 


30 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


his familiarity with the ways of the establishment, he 
would be able to guard his little comrade from many 
of the disagreeable things that had attended the first 
days of his own apprenticeship. He, this same John- 
nie, might have remembered how his heart had swollen 



within him on being thrown into his then strange sur- 
roundings, and how, notwithstanding the goodness of 
Mother Bonnet and the rough kindliness of the fore- 
man, he had wept in secret, sometimes at a reproach, 
sometimes at injustice, sometimes at nothing, simply 
from homesickness, at being cut off from family ties. 


JOHNNIE, 


31 


Entrance upon an apprenticeship is a severe test to 
filial regard. The lad leaves one world for another. 
He ceases to be a child from the day the contract 
for the apprenticeship is signed. The trade that he 
is about to learn is to be his trade when he is a man. 
Thoughtless and vicious boys do not stop to think 
about these things. They are not conscious of the 
transformation through which they are passing. But 
on well-meaning, upright, and ambitious natures, the 
beginning of a career leaves the impress of a serene 
gravity of purpose. As Johnnie was more heedless 
than thoughtful, and fonder of pleasure than of the 
faithful fulfilment of his task, the change had but 
little affected his character ; he asked for nothing bet- 
ter than to be a successful jeweller, for he had chosen 
that calling of his own free will. The glitter of the 
resplendent shops at night, by gas-light, had excited 
his enthusiasm. For hours at a time he would remain 
in contemplation of the sparkling ornaments so skil- 
fully and artistically wrought. The golden bracelets, 
brooches, rings, and clasps threw him into a silent 
ecstasy ; and in the intensity of his admiration he 
would say to himself, — 

When I get big I want to make jewellery like that ; 
it’s so beautiful ! 


32 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


His parents yielded readily to his wish, pleased to 
think that he had found a vocation. After all, this 
trade is better than many another ; it is still an occupa- 
tion which gives a good living to its followers. The ap- % 
prenticeship is a little longer than in some other, call- 
ings, but what of that } It is not asking too much to 
give a few extra months for the command of a lucrative 
employment. To have the means of a comfortable 
livelihood in one’s hands is, to a child of the people, 
as good as a fortune. 

They chose Mr. Dupont’s establishment for several 
reasons — among others because the finest work was 
turned out there, and because the apprentices were 
honestly initiated into all the professional secrets. 
Johnnie, from his inspection of the great jewellery 
salesrooms, had imagined that the workshops where 
such magnificent productions were made would be 
luxurious. His disillusion was great when he entered 
a gloomy, dirty, ill-lighted apartment, cluttered up with 
tools of all sorts, and occupied by a score of workmen, 
who were not in the least dressed after the manner of 
jewellers’ clerks and the venders of fairy caskets, but 
were covered with long blouses of black cambric, very 
much soiled with wear and filings. No signs of jewels 
anywhere, except that on the benches, in little paste- 


JOHNNIE. 


33 


board boxes, were a lot of small, ugly objects that 
might be made of gold, but looked like copper, and did 
not shine at all — on the contrary were tarnished and 
coarsely finished. 

'‘What!” thought Johnnie to himself, "can this be 



a jewellery shop ? Well, if it is, it’s not a very pretty 
place.” 

That was his first serious disappointment. He con- 
cealed it in order that he might not be made fun of ; 
for he felt that he had been childishly silly in believ- 
ing that jewellers’ workshops must be as brilliant and 


34 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


grand as the salesrooms where the jewels were sold. 
The revelation, however, caused him a good deal of 
chagrin. It added to the trials of his new existence 
by destroying one of his cherished fancies. The first 
day of his apprenticeship seemed as long as the first 
day at school. They put him at a vice, and gave him 
a piece of metal to file. It was a monotonous, wea- 
risome, disagreeable task. The handle of the file 
heated and scorched his hand. Several grievous blis- 
ters appeared. He stopped. 

Keep at it,” said the workman charged with over- 
looking his efforts ; keep at it, youngster. Bear on 
— make it bite.” 

Johnnie timidly showed him the red marks left by 
the implement on his hand, and said, It hurts.” 

The workman laughed, and tapped him on the cheek. 

That’s the trade getting into your fingers.” 

He had all he could do to keep back the tears. 
They came to the edge of his eyelids. He coura- 
geously frowned them down, but it was hard, very hard. 
His legs bent under him, his shoulders hurt dreadfully, 
his forearm felt weak and trembly, and the blisters 
swelled and swelled on his tender skin. Nothing is 
learned without effort ; that is the price of victory. 
Mr. Dupont, accompanied by Mr. Griffin, came to see 
how he was getting on. 


JOHNNIE. 


35 


That’s our apprentice,” said Mr. Dupont ; he’s 
an intelligent-looking lad. He has courage and good 
will. What is he doing } He is filing. It’s not very 
straight. He holds his tools awkwardly, but that will 
pass ; it’s only a question of time. Rest a little now, 
my lad ; they will find something easier for you soon.” 

Johnnie, red as a poppy, with head bent down, said 
not a word, but to himself he thought, — 

If they’d only let me make an earring, there would 
be some fun in it ; but to file away at a piece of cop- 
per, and copper harder than a dog — there’s nothing 
amusing about that ! ” 

He learned later on, did Johnnie, that one must learn 
to spell before one learns to read, to make pot-hooks 
before one can form letters, and to practise one’s scales 
before one can sing, to file many, many pieces of 
copper ‘‘ harder than a dog ” before undertaking to 
make earrings. 

For these reasons, and for others, the beginnings of 
his apprenticeship were painful. The former appren- 
tice, who was still there, gave him not the slightest 
assistance. He was a selfish fellow, who saw in the 
arrival of a new learner only the means of getting rid 
of a great many disagreeable tasks. Johnnie realized 
this later on, and felt it keenly. And now, perhaps, 


36 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


you think that he is rejoicing to-day at the prospect of 
another apprentice, in order that he may behave toward 
the novice in an entirely different manner. 

Well, no ; Johnnie was one of those who make it a 
principle — oh, these detestable principles ! — to say to 
themselves that they can do to others what others have 
done to them, and who imagine that they escape from 
the effects of the wrongs that they have suffered by 
the aid of wrongs that they are able to inflict. If Mr. 
Dupont’s apprentice was happy at the idea of no longer 
being alone, it was because he thought that in the posi- 
tion of elder he would have the whip-hand over the new 
arrival, and relinquish to him all the tedious tasks and 
monotonous services. He would reserve for himself 
what he found to be amusing and easy. 

He had but one dread, and that was that the new- 
comer would also have the chance of running errands, 
which would be a serious blow to Johnnie’s happi- 
ness ; for of nothing was Johnnie so fond as running 
errands. One does not master a trade by executing 
commissions, loitering through the streets, or going 
up and down flights of stairs ; but Johnnie never 
could see farther than the end of his nose. The 
momentary satisfaction of his desires was all that he 
cared for. To run errands was to serve his appren- 


J0H1VNIE. 


37 


ticeship in the streets, it was to dawdle instead of 
working, it was to play marbles “ for keeps,” and 
amuse himself by looking at the pictures in the book- 
sellers’ windows ; it was to amble, to run, to have 
what he called ‘‘a good time;” — and it was to grow 
up incapable of being able to earn his living. 

Would this other apprentice have the chance of 
running errands ? Johnnie was afraid so. 


38 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


IV. 

JOHN. 

One afternoon Mr. Griffin, the foreman, said to 
Johnnie, You are going to have a comrade to-mor- 
row.” 

The next morning at seven o’clock Mr. Griffin 
came into the workroom accompanied by a small lad, 
very neatly dressed, with an intelligent and shy ex- 
pression, at once smiling and serious, — a small, dark- 
complexioned boy, with soft, fine hair, and open and 
thoughtful countenance, and with expressive, sympa- 
thetic eyes. 

‘^Johnnie,” said Mr. Griffin, '‘here is the little 
comrade I spoke to you about last night. You are 
his senior, and you can render him a great many 
services ; treat him kindly.” 

Mr. Griffin looked at the new-comer, and tapped 
him on the cheek in sign of amity. 

" For the rest, he appears to me like a good little 
chap, obedient and courageous. He wants to be an 


JOHN. 


39 


honest man and an expert workman. We’ll do our 
best for you here, my lad. Only pay attention to 



what is said to you. You may go now. And see 
that you two get along well together ; for if you do 


40 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


not agree, if you are always squabbling, that will be 
very bad indeed.’' Mr. Griffin’s voice was very seri- 
ous, as it had been on the day when the sign had 
been posted up. 

Oh, we sha’n’t squabble a bit, Mr. Griffin,” re- 
sponded Johnnie, who at first glance had discerned 
that the new-comer would be a docile companion. 

I hope it will be so,” replied Mr. Griffin; ‘^but 
the best way of making me believe so will be to 
prove it by your acts.” 

Now Johnnie, although somewhat mischievous and 
heedless, was at heart not ill-natured. His disposition 
was excellent ; he was affectionate and sincere. All 
at once he felt himself attracted toward the new- 
comer ; and he, who had been rejoicing over the idea 
of getting what he could out of the other fellow, 
underwent a change, and already began to seek for 
an occasion in which he might display his protecting 
friendship. He demanded bluntly, — 

What’s your name ” 

‘‘ John.” 

‘‘John! Well, that’s funny. My name’s Johnnie. 
It’s pretty nearly the same thing.” 

This coincidence in the two names had a good deal 
of influence in establishing friendly relations that first 


V 


JOHN. 


41 


day. By night the two were sworn allies. Johnnie 
knew John as well as if they had been brothers. He 
had asked and found out who John’s father and 
mother were, what they did, whether or not he had 
brothers and sisters, where he had been to school, 
and why he had chosen this particular trade instead 
of another. And without any questions from John, 
he had told all that he knew about the different peo- 
ple in the Dupont establishment ; about the work- 
men ; about Mr. Griffin, who grumbled a great deal, 
but wasn’t so bad ; ” about Mother Bonnet, who 
slipped candy and apples in your pocket when you 
went to fetch water for her ; and about customers 
who gave you little fees, and other customers who 
did not give you any. 

The first day of his apprenticeship ended, John, 
disturbed by the sudden change in his existence, and 
with his brain in a whirl, tried to arrange his ideas, 
and to remember in an orderly way all that he had 
seen, heard, and surmised ; but the task was hope- 
less. He fell asleep in his new bed with a feverish 
sense of perplexities that he could not define, and 
that made him neither sad nor cheerful, but serious, 
with the consciousness that a dividing line in his life 
had been reached, more important than any which he 
could thus far remember. 


42 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

Johnnie was delighted with his new comrade. Their 
fourteen years went well together. John at first, be- 
cause he was by nature not contrary, and then because 
he had not yet habituated himself fully to his new 
conditions, was very submissive to Johnnie, and the 
latter was greatly flattered by such condescension. 
He accepted every task without murmuring, not be- 
cause he was simple, but because he was courageous. 
Several times Mr. Griffin was disposed to interfere. 

‘‘See here; it’s Johnnie’s place to do that.” 

“Yes, I know, Mr. Griffin,” John would answer, to 
prevent Jnhnnie from getting a scolding ; “ but I 
wanted to do it, because I’ve nothing else to do.” 

It is the easiest thing in the world to get along 
with people who never go contrary to your wishes, 
and who defer to you in everything ; and it looked as 
if companionship on these terms ought to continue 
indefinitely without a break. Yet in the course of 
a few months Johnnie suddenly showed toward John 
a covert hostility. 

What had the new-comer done to fall from the 
good graces of his senior } Had he kicked when the 
other imposed too heavy tasks upon him ? h ar from 
it. To avoid reproaches, and to save Johnnie from 
blame, he never deferred to the morrow anything 


V 


^ JOHN. 43 ^ 

that he could possibly get through with the same 
day. 

Had he lost his ambition and courage } Not in the 
least. It had been found' necessary to» moderate his 
zeal, and insist that he should take suitable intervals 
of rest. 

Had he taken from his comrade the privilege of run- 
ning errands, and so deprived Johnnie of the delight of 
loitering in the streets, 
or along the docks 
when the dogs were 
having their baths 1 
By no means. Why, 
then, had Johnnie 
turned against John } 

Because he had yielded to the hateful vice of jeal- 
ousy. Because, after three months of apprenticeship, 
John knew more than he who had been an apprentice 
for a year and a half. Because his comrade’s good 
qualities were appreciated and had been the subject of 
praise. Every week Mr. Dupont was in the habit of 
giving money to the apprentices, and rewarding them 
according to their merits. It was not long before John, 
although new to the place, got more than Johnnie. 
The new-comer, in fact, seemed to justify their best 



44 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


expectations. He was very skilful, and at certain 
kinds of work had the touch of an experienced artisan. 
Mr. Griffin was very fond of him, and let him know it 
whenever an occasion offered. 

Whenever Johnnie made a blunder, tried to evade his 
duties, or by carelessness or want of tact failed in com- 
missions with which he had been intrusted, John was 
always brought up as an example. 

Look at John; pattern yourself after him. See 
how he works, how he applies himself.” At other 
times they would humiliate him. Mr. Griffin would 
say to John, ‘‘You will explain to Johnnie what he 
must do. Pay attention, and John will show you.” 

John did not like at all to be charged with such 
things ; for he understood that his comrade was 
wounded by it, and that it might affect their friend- 
ship. In obeying the foreman’s orders he sought to 
do so with the utmost tact, in order that he might not 
offend too seriously the vanity of his idle comrade. 
Yet, in spite of everything, Johnnie allowed his enmity 
to be aroused. He listened sullenly, with a distracted 
air, furious at being taught by an apprentice of whom 
he was the senior in service. 

It made him angry to think that John should be es- 
teemed more highly than he. The fact that the differ- 


JOHN, 


45 


ence between them might be bridged over by his own 
exertions did not occur to him. He did not realize that 
he, Johnnie, could do as John did, — work hard, and pay 
attention to what was said to him. All that would be 
too difficult, and he thought it much simpler and more 
reasonable to say to himself that John should do as he 
did and pattern himself after Johnnie. 

And if by chance his comrade made a mistake and 
was criticised, how happy that made Johnnie! His 
pleasure — a wicked pleasure it was — would light up 
his whole face. ^^Ah,” he would think to himself, 
'^Master Perfect can be just as stupid as other peo- 
ple, it seems.” He thought he was inflicting a bitter 
punishment on his companion in designating him 
by the nickname of ‘‘Master Perfect.” But John, 
when he heard himself called so, would always answer 
quietly, “ I only wished I deserved the title, friend 
Johnnie ! ” 

The exasperation which Johnnie felt went on in- 
creasing every day. He had chosen hatred for his 
companion — and the guilty thoughts that flitted 
through his mind! John was taken seriously ill; they 
feared that he might not live. The enmity of Johnnie 
was not disarmed by sight of the other’s suffering. 
Envy is such a bad counsellor that he who was really 


46 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


good at heart dared even to whisper to himself, What 
if he should die ! ” 

Fortunately John did not die. He regained his 
health, to the great joy of his employers, and particu- 
larly of Mother Bonnet, who did wonders in the way of 
inventing sovereign remedies and miraculous potions. 
When her ‘‘dear John” was on his feet again, she 



would not consent that he should help her about the 
household tasks. Naturally, the choicest of her atten- 
tions fell to him, whether in the shape of cherries, or 
jam-tarts, or chocolate-creams. One day, when he had 
been presented with a pear almost as big as his head, 
— a golden, perfumed duchess, — he offered the finest 
portion to his comrade. Johnnie waved it back with a 
gloomy air, — 


JOHN. 


47 


I don’t want it.” 

‘^That’s silly. Why not It’s a good one, I can 
tell you. Take it, stupid.” 

See here ! Don’t you call me stupid.” 

‘‘That was only in fun.” 

“Fun or not, you don’t call people stupid just for 
fun. It’s an insult.” 



John, amiable as he was, could not refrain from say- 
ing, “ Well, you’re stupid enough now, anyway.” 

Johnnie raised his hand with a threatening gesture. 
“ Say that again, and I’ll cuff you ! ” 

John, though surprised and indignant, kept cool. 
“ You had best not touch me, but if you do you’ll find 
out that I’m not a softy.” 



48 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


We’ll see about that. To-night after the workmen 
are gone, if you’re not a softy — you ” — 

If he isn’t a softy, what will he do } ” It was Mr. 
Griffin who spoke. Johnnie turned around, confused 
and abashed. 

'‘Well,” repeated Mr. Griffin, "if he isn’t a softy, 
what will he do ” 

John tried to smooth over matters. Mr. Griffin sent 
him away into another room, and had the matter out 
with Johnnie alone. 

" He called me a stupid,” said Johnnie in tears. 
"I’m his friend, and I don’t want him to insult me.” 

" Stupid is sometimes said in a friendly way, as 
you very well know. But you are jealous. He is 
liked better than you, it is true. The secret of that 
is that he is better than you are. In everything he 
is stronger than you. You are priding yourself on 
your strength of muscle, but I feel certain that he 
could take care of ten such fellows as you. A do- 
nothing is a do-nothing at everything, even at a fight. 
However, we don’t allow any fighting here. It would 
be a nice state of things to have apprentices fisting 
each other in the workshop ! What sort of manners 
do you call that } If you ever touch so much as a 
hair of John’s head you will have to reckon with 


JOHN, 


49 


me, you rascal. Remember, now, what I have told 
you.” 

The battle did not take place. The severe admoni- 
tion, in fact, had something of an effect upon Johnnie, 
who tried to be more amicably disposed toward John, 
and the latter received his advances most kindly. 
Johnnie, in fact, almost succeeded in reviving his old 
feeling of friendliness. By force of reasoning, he 
finally listened patiently to the praises bestowed upon 
his companion. In the detested rival he finally recog- 
nized an example to be followed. Little by little he 
submitted to the control of a superior character, until 
at length he positively admired one whom he had 
formerly hated. If he continued to call John Master 
Perfect,” it was no longer out of irony. 

This conversion had a very happy effect. Admir- 
ing the qualities of his companion instead of envying 
them, he sought to make them his own. He showed 
less liking for loitering in the streets, and more fond- 
ness for the workshop ; he was less careless, less 
awkward, more civil, and more obedient. His progress 
was so decided that it gave pleasure to others. They 
praised him openly. 

“Well done; you’re getting on. That’s almost as 
well as John could do.” 


50 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


One day he and John were at work on a similar 
task, and when Johnnie had finished Mr. Griffin was 
loud in his commendations. 

Better and better. John himself has never done 
as well as that.” 

That night he was as fond of John as he had been 
on the first day of their acquaintance. His jealousy 
was all gone. He had found out the secret why the 
other was more popular than he, which was a great 
deal ; but he had also found the courage to make that 
secret his own, which was more. 

John and Johnnie were again warm friends and 
cordial companions at their tasks, when a third appren- 
tice made his appearance. 


JACK. 


51 


V. 

JACK. 

There are certain things that people believe happen 
only in romance. The workshop already had a John 
and a Johnnie. The third apprentice was called Jack. 

John, Johnnie, Jack — it seemed as if these three 
names had come together out of natural affinity. It 
was a coincidence due to a stroke of chance, and a 
very great stroke of chance it was ! 

John did not in the least resemble Johnnie, and 
Jack was not like either Johnnie or John. Each of 
the three apprentices was of a special type. John 
was thoughtful, serious, and courageous. Johnnie was 
frivolous, but frank ; slothful by nature, but industrious 
by fits and starts ; often doing wrong, but quick to 
repent, — a fine character, with some very serious 
blemishes. 

Jack — if I say what I think of Jack, will people 
think that I am favoring him a little } I am not 
going to favor him at all, but I promise to give a 


52 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


faithful history of the three apprentices of Moon 
Street. 

Jack had attained his thirteenth 
year in plum-time ; that is, in the 
month of August. 
He was short and 
twisted, like a vine 
plant, because he 



had got into 
the bad habit 
of holding 

himself onesidedly. His hair 

was red as a carrot, which is M . 

by no means an offence, and V 

which in well-behaved children ^ 

is even tolerable, but which ill became Jack; for one 

may have a fine head of hair, and it may be red, but 


JACK, 


S3 


it is not necessary that it should be dishevelled. Jack 
very willingly deprived himself of the services of a 
comb, and consequently had a head like a porcupine. 

It is not necessary to say anything about his nose, 
since that had nothing to do with his roguery, or 
of his little round, slightly squinting eyes, or of his 
rather large mouth, or of his ears, ^yhich were some- 
what too long. Physical advantages are not of very 
great importance ; and if Jack was not handsome, there 
was no reason why he should be blamed. And, by 
the way, have you ever noticed that there are no 
people who are wholly ugly } that there are only 
people who have faults } Ugliness of face never 
exists unless there is ugliness in the heart. If one 
is good and virtuous, those qualities are manifested in 
the countenance ; and no cast of features can resist 
showing the effect of native ugliness, so that if this 
quality exists it can always be read there. He, on 
the other hand, who has been disgraced by nature and 
who is full of faults, will remain ugly ; and more than 
that, his ugliness will increase through the faults of 
which it is the index. 

Would Jack have had that wide-stretched mouth if 
he had not been a glutton } those shifty eyes if he 
had been sincere } those uncombed locks if he had 


54 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


been neat ? and, I may add, those long ears if he had 
been wise ? But this last point has been for some 
time in doubt. Some very learned men have sought 
to make us believe that big ears do not prove any- 
thing, and by way of argument they have shown us 


their own. 



When Jack pre- 
sented himself at the 
workshop he had tried 
all sorts of trades. 
He had been helper 
to a mason, but by his 
awkwardness had emp- 
tied a hod of mortar 
on the head of a work- 
man, who had ex- 
pressed his discontent 
with that style of 
covering, and had 
roughly bade him be 


off. Turning house-painter, he had carelessly spilled 
lampblack into a pot of vermilion, and through mis- 
placed greed had narrowly escaped poisoning himself 
by drinking spirits of turpentine. Then, one day he 
fell into a barrel of Prussian blue. He remained of 


JACK, 


55 


that color for more than a month ; he had a fine 
complexion, something like that of a negro who had 
faded out a little. 

As grocer’s clerk he didn’t seem to know the differ- 
ence between a quart and a pound. Being abstracted 
in his thoughts, he dealt out pepper for candles, and 
molasses instead of coffee. One morning he waited 
upon two customers, one of whom asked for half a 
pound of powdered sugar, and the other for half a pound 
of table-salt. Two hours later both customers came 
back, furious with rage. The first had been eating 
salted cream, and the second taking sweetened soup. 
The unfortunate clerk had made a mistake ; he had given 
sugar to the one who had asked for salt, and salt to the 
one who wanted sugar. These, however, were minor 
faults. A more serious matter was the rapid disappear- 
ance of the raisins, and they suspected him of having 
eaten them. Once they caught him with his hand in 
the drawer where the fancy biscuits were ; he denied 
having eaten any, but tell-tale crumbs lingered about 
the corners of his mouth. 

Preceded by the reputation thus acquired. Jack pre- 
sented himself at Mr. Dupont’s workshops. Mr. Griffin 
hesitated about taking him. He doubted the wisdom of 
introducing a wolf into his sheepfold. But he consid- 


S6 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

\ 

ered the situation of the poor lad, who was more to be 
pitied than blamed ; and I’ll tell you why. 

Jack was an orphan. You who read this story, I 
hope will never know how much sorrow, bitterness, and 
suffering, are in that word. At the age when one needs 
so much to be loved, as a father and mother only can 
love, think what it is to go alone into life, a victim of 
all the evil instincts that are in us ! Cruel, is it not } 
And those who are orphans, and who have not the 
strength to triumph over evil, but who succumb to it, — 
how much they deserve our pity ! 

Jack had an uncle who had given him shelter. The 
uncle was not a bad man ; but he had one sad failing, — 
he drank. Being drunk most of the time, he took no 
care of the little boy, who grew up in his own way, 
with this lamentable example always before him. In- 
stead of going to school, he ran the streets. At thirteen, 
the age when well-trained children are far advanced in 
their studies, he was ignorant of the elementary rules 
of spelling ; he could not do a sum in three figures 
without making a mistake ; and of history and geogra- 
phy he knew nothing. If you had told him that Louis 
XIV. was cousin-german to Pharamond, and that Pekin 
was a sub-prefecture in the department of the Seine- 
et-Oise, he would not have hesitated to believe you. 


JACK. 


57 


As to his handwriting, any fairly intelligent cat, who 
could be brought to apply himself to the task, would 
have been able to turn out a handsomer. You can see 
for yourself, right here, by comparing the signatures 
which John, Johnnie, and Jack have inscribed beneath 
their portraits. Whatever else may be said of the 
scrawl that Jack has made, you cannot justly declare 
that he has wielded what is known as a ready pen. 

Without good advice or care of any sort, living mostly 
in the streets, and seeing at home only too often the 
lamentable spectacle of drunkenness. Jack, as you can 
readily understand, had never had the chance of grow- 
ing up a little saint. If he had been good at all, he 
would only have been so by natural disposition ; and 
that natural disposition is exactly what was lacking m 
him. The poor child had come into the world with a 
number of very bad inclinations ; and these, education 
and family life had done nothing to repress. 

Good Mr. Griffin understood all this. ‘‘Perhaps it's 
not too late to save him yet,” he thought ; “ we’ll try it, 
anyhow.” It would be, indeed, a noble work to take 
the boy from his evil surroundings, and bring him under 
new influences, which would tend to develop in him the 
principles of uprightness, probity, and honor. 

“ Hello, carrot-top,” said Johnnie, on first sight of him. 


58 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


'' Don’t call him by that name again,” said Mr. 
Griffin. His hair is red, for the same reason that 
your hair is black. Only fools make fun of others on 
account of their looks. If Jack’s hair was handsomer 
than yours, that would be no reason for showing 
jealousy ” — 

‘‘Oh, handsomer! I like my own well enough.” 

“ All the wiser you, my lad. If you wanted to 
change it, it’s not in your power to do so. Give your- 
self no concern about looks. When any one comes 
searching for work, we don’t ask what kind of hair he 
has, but whether he is a good workman. Look out 
that you keep your own locks well combed, and don’t 
distress yourself about others. And now see that the 
new-comer has a cordial greeting.” He called John. 
“ My lad, here is a new comrade ; be to him what you 
would wish him to be to you. His name is Jack.” 

“All right, Mr. Griffin,” John responded, turning to 
the new-comer and taking him one side. “You have 
got into a good place,” he said; “we are well fixed 
here.” 

Jack rubbed his hands together, snapped his fingers, 
puckered up his mouth, winked one eye, and executed a 
double shuffie, — a display of feeling which was in any- 
thing but good taste. 


JACK, 


59 


Johnnie was enormously entertained with the off- 
hand ways of the new arrival, and with his free and 
easy speech. He burst out laughing at every one of 
Jack’s attempts at a joke, and admired him immensely, 
as if he had been a finished comedian. 



“My,” he said aside to John, “isn’t he a droll chap! 
We sha’n’t be dull when he’s around.” 

“ That’s according to how you look at it,” replied 
John. 

Johnnie was indignant at seeing that his comrade did 


6o 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


not participate in his enthusiasm. Oh, well, we can’t 
all be Master Perfects like you.” 

Crash, smash, bang ! At that moment a terrific 
racket aroused the whole workshop. A large pane 
of glass had fallen into the courtyard. Jack had been 
amusing himself by twirling a hammer, and with his 
usual dexterity had sent it through a window. 

‘‘That’s a good beginning,” said Mr. Griffin. “Keep 
on that way, and we shall get all the ventilation we 
want.” 

“ I didn’t do it on purpose,” Jack whimpered. 

“ I can very well believe that. It would be rather 
too much to suppose that you had done it of your own 
free will.” 

This apprentice, who -began by breaking windows, 
was destined to make a good deal of noise in the world. 


. %. 

. JACK PLAYK TRICKS. 6l 


VI. 

JACK PLAYS TRICKS. 

Jack’s arrival led to some disagreeable consequences. 
The lad had really no more desire to be a jeweller than 
he had had to be any one of a dozen other things he 
had tried. He understood what was said to him, for 
his mind was very quick ; but as soon as his instructor’s 
back was turned he forgot all the advice and the direc- 
tions that had been given him. Steady work did not 
suit him at all. When he was obliged to stay in the 
shop and kept close at one occupation, the hours 
seemed to him as if they would never end. 

Noon and luncheon time came far too slowly, and 
one o’clock, when work was resumed, always too soon. 
He wished that they had a clock on which the hands 
would travel with lightning speed during working-hours, 
and move slowly, — very, very, slowly, — during inter- 
vals of rest. 

He was more fond than Johnnie of running errands. 
He invented errands, and he found excuses to go back 


62 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 



come from heaven 
knows where. Now 
he would stop to 
listen to the talk of 
travelling mounte- 
banks. Now he 
would traverse Paris 
by cab, and for noth- 
ing. He had a way of hanging on behind carriages, 
and once in so doing got struck with a whip by a 
brutal coachman and narrowly missed losing one eye ; 
another time he fell from his improvised seat, and 


and lorth as many times as possible when he was sent 
anywhere. He was continually on the go, and all over 
the quarter. You have met him more than once, most 

certainly. 

Now he would 
be quarrelling 
with little Arabs, 


JACK PLAYS TRICKS. 


63 


rolled in front of an omnibus. He was taken up in 
a pitiable state ; no bones were broken, but he suffered 
greatly ; and if it had not been for Mother Bonnet, who 
nursed him tenderly, he would not have got out of the 
affair as well as he did. 

The lesson was wholly lost on him. No sooner was 
he out again, when he tried the same thing once more. 
This time he was not 
as adroit as usual, and 
his foot caught fast in 
such a way that he 
could not get down. 

He might have called 
for help ; but he feared 
that the coachman 
a little correction, and 
carriage to stop. The carriage stopped, 

but after a drive of four hours outside of the city 
limits, in a region of which Jack knew nothing, and 
whence he came hobbling back on foot. The errand 
which he was to do should have taken him about 
twenty minutes. He was away for six hours. When 
he got back, he was punished. 

From these excursions he brought many anecdotes 
which he retailed to the workshop. Very imitative by 



64 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


nature, he remembered readily all the slang and rough 
language of the street. There is a difference between 
the speeches thus picked up and the teachings of the 
master of etiquette. Jack was far from thinking that 
he had attained perfection in this kind of discourse, but 
he spared no effort to make himself an accomplished 


buffoon. 



his inferiority. Jack knew everything, — except what 
he ought to have known. 

If an absurd or ridiculous song came out. Jack would 
buy it, learn it by heart, and sing it in the most out- 
landish falsetto that ever inflicted torture upon the 
human ear. 

Jack had made friends with La Moune, who had the 
freedom of the workshop. He invented games which 


JACK FLAYS TRICKS. 6$ 

were her delight. He would make mice out of scraps 
of paper and a piece of thread, and she would chase 
them in graceful leaps and bounds. But he did not 
stop there ; he undertook to make experiments with La 
Moune, and she objected. One day he said to his com- 
rades : I’m going to show you to-night in the dark 
an experiment that you will find very amusing. I bet 
that I can bring sparks of fire out of La Moune.” 

Rats !” responded Johnnie, in a provoking way, but 
curious enough to see. 

‘'You’ll stroke her back with your hand,” said John. 

“You know about that ” said Jack, astonished that 
the other should be aware of this secret. 

“ Yes,” said John ; “ but I have never seen the opera- 
tion, and I never had the wish to try it.” 

That night they got together by appointment. La 
Moune had been deceitfully entrapped in the dormitory. 
Jack called her, patted her, passed his hand over her 
back. La Moune purred. All at once. Jack called out 
in the darkness : — 

“ Attention ! ” 

The two others looked with all their eyes. They 
waited to see the sparks. 

“Moune! Moune!” cried Jack; “will you keep 
still.?” 


66 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


“ Pfft ! Pfft ! ” said the cat. 

There, you’ll see the sparks now ! ” exclaimed 
Johnnie. 

Not sparks, but claws. Jack was badly scratched. 
His hand was bleeding. La Moune has avenged her- 
self for being subjected to such experiments. 

As an experiment in electricity,” said John, ‘Ht 
is not so bad ; but all the same I rather prefer the 
demonstrations they give at night-school. The ap- 
paratus they use is safer to handle. More than 
that. I’ve heard it said that things always go by 
contraries, and when you rub a cat’s back the 
wrong way, you’re apt to get more scratches than 
sparks.” 

Jack, the resourceful, knew also how to do tricks 
with cards, and how to whistle by putting his fingers 
in his mouth. Johnnie tried in vain to acquire this 
villanous accomplishment ; it was quite beyond him. 
As for John, he said: Whistling like that is not 
good manners. I’m not a locomotive.” 

Jack was quite vain of these different displays of 
talent. Vanity is a very queer thing ! 

Oh, well, you know,” he would say, ^Ht’s very 
hard to do.” 

It was not so hard as to make a fine piece of 


JACK FLAYS TRICKS. 6 / 

jewellery, and it was infinitely less useful, — that is 
what Jack might have added, but did not. 

As a mountebank he would have been a success. 
He had not his superior in turning a hand-spring. 
He could balance himself on chairs. He could have 
given points to a circus clown. 

To be a jack-pudding, — 
there’s an ambition for 
you ! He had never 
been able to learn to 
speak good French; 
but he had picked 
up, with the greatest 
ease, the phrases and 
the accent of the harle- 
quin and the merry-andrew. 

If Jack had been sent to the 
Institute he would never have 
come back ; not that he would have entered the 
Academy, but he had discovered in that neighbor- 
hood a single stick-player of marvellous ability, — one 
Camus by name. 

Camus juggled with canes, and caught a walnut, 
thrown high in the air, in a hollow stick. Naturally 
'he always had a crowd of idlers about him, — street 



68 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


urchins in the first row, and among these often Jack. 
He would draw a circle on the pavement with a piece 
of chalk. 

Look out, now, and don’t step over the edge of 
the gallery,” he would say; ‘‘you little good-for- 
nothings.” 

The gallery was the chalk line. He would make 
some flourishes to attract the attention of the public, 
and when his audience was sufficiently large — 

“ Now, then ! ” he would exclaim. “ I get along 
with one stick because there are not two. To do this 
trick, one must have fingers ; it’s a great help. 

‘ When three canes a-walking go, 

The first’s in front, as you must know ; 

The first is never in the rear; 

The last will not in front appear. 

When three canes a-walking go. 

The first’s in front, as you must know.’ ” 


He went through some tricks, then spoke again: — 
“ Before continuing the other exercises I shall make 
the grand tour. I shall make the tour of the world, 
— the tour of the world as far as I can reach it, 
you understand, — so here goes for a start ! ” He 
addressed himself to Jack, who wore an idiotic grin. 
“You haven’t a sou about you, you ill-starred jeweller 


/A CJ^ FLAYS TRICKS. 


69 


Ladies and gentlemen, here is the plate ; it only 
needs a hundred francs. One sou already, — we are 
getting on. We only need now ninety-nine francs 
and ninety-nine centimes. Come, pony up ! Only 
one sou, — well, I put that on the end of my nose. 
The purse opens — presto, gone ! Don’t get dis 
couraged. I’ll give you the whole business for twenty 
sous. Now we only lack five — only four. Look out, 
or you’ll get in too many. Now we’ll do the walnut 
game.” He cracked one. ‘‘You see what it is. 

You can eat it, little girl, — it’s good. Well, I take 

a walnut, just like this, I throw it fifty feet above 
the house-tops, this way ” — 

He made as if to throw it in the air. Everybody 
looked. He kept it in his hand. He began again, 
seriously this time, but every time the walnut fell to 
the ground. 

“ I slipped up that time, ’tis true, ladies and gentle- 
men ; but it is human to err, and we learn by ex- 

perience.” 

With the sticks he succeeded better. Jack was 
trying to master the same tricks, and that is why on 
the first day at the workshop he let fly a hammer 
through the window. Another time he discovered a 
merchant who dealt in magic powder, — a strange 


70 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


looking personage, who wore a tattered red coat 
adorned with tarnished gilt braid. 

'' If you want to have some fun,” said this odd fellow, 
^‘buy a box of this powder. The recipe came down 
to me from my ancestors. It’s the biggest joke out. 
When you go into society, you can bet a bottle of 

wine with a prince 
of the blood or a 
duchess that they 
can’t snuff a can- 
dle with their bare 
fingers ; but if 
they complain that 
their guests are all going 
to sleep, you can wager 
that you have the means 
of making everybody 
brace up. You then bet forty sous, which you have 
previously deposited with the Bank of France, and 
you then reveal the secret of this powder. Gentle- 
men and ladies, it will scratch, and it will bite. 
Two sous a packet ! ” 

Jack had two sous, and he used them to buy a 
packet of this wonderful powder from the monkey 
pedler. With the substance thus secured he pro- 



JACK FLA YS TRICKS. 


n 


posed to play some scurvy tricks. He would drop a 
little down John’s and Johnnie’s necks, and — for the 
rascal had no respect for age — put a little in good 
Mother Bonnet’s cap. He slipped 
the small package carefully in his 
pocket. Scarcely had he got back, 
when he began to feel an in- 
tensely painful, burning sen- - 
sation down the length of one 
leg. It scratches 
and it bites.” It bit 
him. He thrust his 
hand in his pocket, 

— no magic powder 
there. It had all 

run out, and the packet was empty. Jack’s pockets 
always had holes in them, and the powder had taken 
advantage of the opportunity to run down his leg. 
Destiny had once more ordained that the biter should 
be bit. 



72 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


VII. 

BISQUINE. 

Yet, in spite of everything, Jack had one good 
quality which over-balanced all his faults. His heart 
was in t;he right place. He was capable of sincere 
affection and even of self-sacrifice and generosity. 
One corner of his perverse nature was free from blem- 
ish, and there pity for suffering had at certain periods 
the supremacy. And here is the way in which the 
existence of this feeling, so carefully concealed and 
so little anticipated, came to light. 

It was noticed that at night, when the workmen 
were gone and his comrades were out of the way. 
Jack was in the habit of going to a store-room which 
opened off the workshop. Every night, for two weeks, 
with the utmost mystery, he made this errand, always 
with something carefully concealed in his blouse. 
Evidently he was up to something. Mr. Griffin, who 
saw everything, took note of Jack’s behavior. He 
resolved to keep a watch on the apprentice. 


BIS QUINE. 


73 


‘‘ What mischief is he at now ? ” said the foreman to 
himself. ‘‘ I must look into this.” 

Although it was dark in the place where Jack went, 
he never carried any light, and it was impossible to 
follow his movements. Waiting until he came out, 
Mr. Griffin one night explored the premises. He 
searched very carefully every nook and corner, and 
found nothing out of the way. 

‘‘Yet I’m sure he takes something in there. He 
must have a secret hiding-place.” What was the 
mystery The other apprentices were not in his 
confidence. 

“ I thought I heard something moving in the store- 
room yesterday,” said John. 

“ And I heard a sort of moaning sound,” added 
Johnnie ; “ it scared me.” 

Jack turned red, and responded briskly, “ Oh, yes ; 
I heard it too ; and I saw what it was, — it was 
rats.” 

“Rats, was it You are certain of that.^” de- 
manded Mr. Griffin, fixing his glance in a disquieting 
way upon the last speaker. 

Jack was uneasy and looked down. “Yes, Mr. 
Griffin,” he stammered; “it was rats; I’m very sure I 
saw them.” 


74 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


^'Ah, you’re not quite sure, it seems. A moment 
ago you declared that you had seen them.” 

Saturday came, the day when everything was put 
in order about the workshop. The whole place was 
tidied up, and every corner swept clean. This task 
usually fell upon Johnnie and John, as Jack was almost 
always away on an errand. And this time what do 
you suppose John found — Horrors! a bloody hand- 
kerchief ! 

The two apprentices looked at each other in amaze- 
ment. A bloody handkerchief ! — they could not con- 
ceal such a discovery as that. They went and showed 
it to the foreman, who was greatly moved, and said, — 

‘‘Very good. I will question Jack.” 

When Jack came back, they showed him the hand- 
kerchief. He turned frightfully pale. 

“Yes,” said he, trembling; “it’s mine.” 

“ How came that blood on it } ” 

The lad glanced instinctively toward the store-room 
as if he expected an accusing voice to come from there. 

“ How came that handkerchief to be bloody ? ” 
repeated Mr. Griffin. 

“I don’t know,” responded Jack. 

“ You are lying to me.” 

“ Well, the fact is, I cut my finger.” 


BIS QUINE. 


7S 


Show me your finger. Where is the cut 1 '' 

No, I didn’t cut me,” replied Jack ; I had the 
nose-bleed.” 

'' Another falsehood. Why do you lie to me. Jack } ” 
Mr. Griffin’s deep voice was very severe. 

John and Johnnie drew near each other in alarm. 
The bloody handkerchief, Mr. Griffin’s icy tones, the 
embarrassed attitude of their comrade, his pallor, the 
noises they had heard in the store-room, the groans, — 
Goodness ! ” they thought ; '' can it be possible } ” 

They read the newspapers sometimes, and the 
criminal reports had made an impression upon them. 

'‘Why do you go so often and at night to the store- 
room ” asked Mr. Griffin dryly. 

" Oh, how can you ask such a thing } Why, I never 
go there at all ! ” 

" I have seen you. I have followed you there. It is 
useless to try to deceive me. What do you go there 
for .? ” 

"Not for anything; I don’t go there for anything — 
for nothing ” — 

" Well, we’ll see. With your comrades here as 
witnesses I’m going to make a thorough examination. 
You have concealed something there. Are you going 
to confess } ” 


76 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

It was useless to hold out any longer ; but only when 

Mr. Griffin got to the store-room door did Jack venture 

« 

to speak. 

Mr. Griffin, Mr. Griffin ; I’ll tell you the truth ; but 
promise me not to hurt him or drive him away.” 

Drive who away t ” 

My dog.” 

‘‘ What dog .? ” 

I’ll show you.” 

He disappeared in the store-room and then came 
back, bearing in a softly cushioned basket a handsome, 
black, curly dog with a bandaged paw. 

‘‘This is who I went to see and to carry things 
to eat, if you want to know.” 

“ Why did you hide him in there } ” 

“Because you forbade us to have dogs around.” 

“ If I forbade it, why do you have one } ” 

“ Because he was wounded and unhappy. I couldn’t 
help taking pity on him. I’ve been caring for him now 
for a fortnight.” 

He put the basket on the floor. The wounded ani- 
mal got up and dragged himself to the feet of his 
little master, wagging his tail as an indication of 
gratitude. Johnnie and John stooped over and petted 
him, — 


BIS QUINE. 


77 


‘'Too bad about his paw!” 

Mother Bonnet came up, and, of course, took a sym- 
pathetic interest in the invalid. 

Jack then related the history of the way in which 



he had found the dog. As it is always easy to tell 
the truth, he spoke very simply and almost eloquently, 
and his hearers were touched by the story. 

It was this way. Jack was flattening his nose 
against the shop windows, as was his habit, and so 
did not at first perceive a stray dog that had taken 


78 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


advantage of a tub of olive-oil, which a grocer had 
drawn from a leaking cask and placed on the side- 



walk, to supply itself with a breakfast. The grocer 
came out in great wrath. 

Whose dog is drinking my oil ? ” 

Mine,” said Jack, never at a loss in such emer- 
gencies. 


BISQUnVE. 


79 


‘‘Your dog has drunk at least a quart of oil ” (this 
was not true) ; “ you must pay me for it. It will be 
fifteen sous.” 

“ I haven’t any money,” said Jack, always up to 
his tricks ; “ but if you want to get back what you 
have lost, you can do so easily. Go and get a lamp- 
wick and give it to the dog. Let him swallow part 
of it and keep one end out. As the dog is full of 
oil, he’ll make a first-class lamp. You can light him, 
and everybody will come to see him burn. Your for- 
tune will be made. Here you are ; the new and 
wonderful dog-lamp, self-regulating, all the latest im- 
provements ! ” 

“ Ah, you are making game of me,” said the gro- 
cer. “ I’ll fix you ; here’s for your mangy dog ! ” 

Saying this, he dealt the poor beast a kick with 
his hoof and wounded the dog’s foot, — I should 
say, of course, a kick with his foot that wounded 
the dog’s paw. The poor animal howled dismally. 
A crowd gathered and condemned the brutality, for 
the grocer was clearly in the wrong. The dog would 
not have drunk his oil if he had not been so careless 
as to put the oil in the dog’s way. It turned out 
that his wicked deed lost him considerable custom, 
an argument which had much more effect upon him 


8o 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


than remonstrances from kind-hearted people. Jack 
gave him a lesson in humanity. He bound up the 
wounded paw with his handkerchief, and carried the 
suffering animal away in his arms. 

But Mr. Griffin did not like dogs around the work- 
shop. Still, Jack felt that he could not abandon the 
animal in the condition in which it then was. He 
brought it home secretly, and kept it the first night 


in his own bed. The 
ixt morning he found 
place in the store- 
om and took care 
it there, giving it 
od and drink. All 
i wanted was to see 
tne animal well again. 



^‘That’s all I ask, Mr. Griffin; only let me cure 
him ! When he is well again, poor dog, I will do 
whatever you say with him.’' 

‘‘When he gets well, you can keep him. I don’t 
want to be the means of separating you from a faith- 
ful friend ; for if you cannot always be sure of grati- 
tude from human beings, you can at least be sure of 
it from dogs.” 

Mother Bonnet brought a dish of food. ‘‘ There,” 


BIS QUINE. 


8l 


she said to the dog, eat that ; but, you thief, keep 
away from the oil ! ” 

As the dog was of the feminine sex they called 
her Bisquine. Friendship was a matter of time be- 
tween Bisquine and La Moune. Dogs and cats do 
not take to each other by instinct ; in fact, they 
are rather disposed to 



wage war upon each 



other. Only earth- 


enware dogs can 
look at each other as 
\ fiercely as cats look at 
p real dogs, but the earth- 
enware dogs do not fight. 


La Moune was slumbering comfortably in a hat- 
box, which she had honored with the distinction of 
taking for her bed, when the patter of two pairs of 
strange paws struck upon her alert ear. She opened 
one eye and then the other, glanced slowly atound, 
lifted her head, stretched out her neck, pricked up 
her ears, got on her feet, and with infinite precau- 


82 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


tion followed in the track of the new-comer, whose 
free and easy ways were not at all pleasing. She 
watched as Bisquine ran about the room which was 
her particular domain, and made it clear that she 
considered this invasion to be in very bad taste. 

The dog ran barking from one to another, lapping 
at everybody and rubbing up against Mr. Griffin’s 
legs. She passed near La Moune, who let fly a tre- 
mendous imprecation, and arched up her back like a 
cathedral ^ roof, and waved the menacing banner of 
her distended tail in signal of war. 

With the idea of paying her respects, Bisquine 
brought her nose close to La Moune’s. La Moune, 
with a ready paw and distended nails, gave her two 
or three lively digs. Bisquine uttered a loud yelp of 
pain. 

‘‘Ah, well,” said Mother Bonnet, “if they’re go- 
ing to fight at this rate ” — 

She took up the cat and petted her, that La Moune 
might understand that there was one friend still re- 
maining, and that gentleness was better than severity. 
But La Moune was obdurate. She sulked. She re- 
tired under a chest of drawers, and thence observed 
the movements of the dog with an evident desire to 
fly at Bisquine’s head at the slightest provocation. 


V 


BIS QUINE. 


83 


That night, without the slightest ceremony, Bis- 
quine devoured La Moune’s supper, — an action which 
you may suppose did not tend toward peaceful rela- 
tions. The warfare of those first days was cruel ; 
and if Bisquine did not lose an eye in the terrific 
battles that took place, it was only by a narrow 
chance that she escaped. 

As time went on the battles became less frequent ; 
they got so that they ate amicably from the same 
saucer, slept side by side, and frolicked together. In 
fact, they were often in company, sought each other 
out, evidently thought highly each of the other, and 
finally became almost inseparable. Bisquine moped if 
La Moune was long away, and La Moune could not 
reconcile herself to separation from Bisquine. In the 
brains of these two small creatures love had taken 
the place of hate, and it was as if they said to them- 
selves : Is it possible that we would have quarrelled 
so if we could have understood each other as well as 
we do now } ” 

It often happens in life that cats and dogs hate each 
without reason. ‘‘To understand is to love.” Try to 
realize this, and apply it to yourself. That is the secret 
of happiness. 


84 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


VIII. 

THE BROKEN BOUGH. 

John went to night-school, by special permission 
from Mr. Dupont. The night-school is an excellent 
thing. It has been organized especially for the edu- 
cation of young artisans, who must get their scholarship 
as best they can, and at the night-schools are instructed 
by devoted and interested teachers. John went six 
evenings in a week. He stood among the first in 
his various classes ; and his teachers were very fond of 
him on account of his intelligence, his good conduct, 
and his industry. 

If you succeed in winning three first prizes,” Mr. 
Griffin had said, you may have anything from me that 
you will ask for, since I know you will ask for nothing 
that will not be reasonable. Work on, then.” 

Johnnie and Jack informed Mr. Griffin of their desire 
to go to the night-school, — that is to say, to get per- 
mission to stay out till ten o’clock. Mr. Griffin granted 
their request, but only after warning them that he 


THE BROKEN BOUGH. 85 

should keep nimself informed as to their movements, 
and know what use they made of their liberty. 

They went to their classes with great regularity for 
three days. To Jack, the novelty of the thing was very 
entertaining. He got no special good from the lessons, 
for he was too much taken up with what was going on 
about" him ; nevertheless, he declared his purpose not 
to miss a single session. Like a certain place we have 
all heard of. Jack was very well supplied with good 
intentions. 

The classes were dismissed at ten o’clock. One 
night an incident occurred that to John was a matter 
of considerable significance. While they had been at 
their studies a great snow-storm swept over the city, and 
covered everything with a thick, fleecy coat of crystal 
flakes. Carriages and people largely disappeared from 
the streets, and young scapegraces took advantage of 
the occasion to bombard everybody who was out with 
snow-balls. 

In the square, before the building where the classes 
met, John saw several women pedlers with handcarts in 
a great deal of trouble. One of the carts was carefully 
covered ; but by looking closely one could see that it 
was loaded with magnificent oranges, which seemed to 
exhale a delicious perfume on the frosty air. The 


86 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

proprietor of this itinerant garden of the Hesperides 
was trying to push the vehicle onward, but the snow 
was so deep she could not move it. John — those 
oranges were so tempting ! — offered to help her. The 
offer was made in a most disinterested way, such as 



might be expected from a good little boy who was kind- 
hearted and could not pass any one in trouble without 
holding forth a helping hand. 

Slipping, puffing, and perspiring, the orange-woman 
and the apprentice harnessed themselves to the cart 
and shoved it along with a ‘‘ Heave, yo, ho ! ” and the 


V 


THE BROKEN BOUGH. 


87 


large snow-flakes settled slowly on their faces, and 
melting, ran in little rivulets down their necks. In 
this manner they finally reached a distant alley, re- 
served especially for this kind of vehicle, and which 



that night was nearly empty, the usual occupants not 
having yet arrived. 

His task accomplished, John was about to withdraw, 
and took his leave with great politeness. The woman 
called him back, and in acknowledgment of his kind- 


4 


88 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


ness, offered him what he had expected, — oranges. He 
made the celebrated gesture with which Hippocrates 
refused the presents of Artaxerxes ; but his self-denial 
did not last. The woman filled his pockets ; and he 
yielded readily to this act of violence, with a confused 
Thank you ” as each golden ball found a lodging on 
his person. He went homeward, with his -blouse 
swollen to astonishing proportions, and weighted down 
with the booty that his diplomacy, under the cover of 
beneficence, had enabled him to secure. 

Very often, when he became a man, he thought of 
that orange-woman; and he came to realize that disin- 
terested actions often proceed from very remote 
motives, and he understood how it was that a spirit 
of fraternity might sometimes be inspired by love for 
one’s own good. He had meanwhile met with many 
flattering testimonials of friendship, and often in such 
cases had found reason to suspect that those who 
offered them were not so unselfish as they tried to 
appear. We have all been there. Like John, we may 
regard with a suspicious eye those who press upon us 
unexpected services ; and we may be pardoned, if in 
moments of scepticism we occasionally say to ourselves. 
Perhaps they have seen the oranges ! ” 

But we must not forget that all apparently generous 


THE BROKEN BOUGH 89 

actions do not rise from interested motives, and that 
there are some noble natures who give simply for the 
sake of giving, and without hope of reward. 

The three apprentices continued to frequent the 
night school. One evening, as the teacher was going 
through a demonstration at the blackboard, a strange 
noise was heard, similar to that made by a stove-funnel 
when the draught is pretty strong. It was Jack, snor- 
ing. The teacher paused, and urged the delinquent not 
to discommode himself in the least, and begged him 
next time to bring a mattress with him. Shamed by 
this rebuke. Jack would never again attend the classes, 
notwithstanding the persuasions of Johnnie, and more 
especially of John. The next night he went with his 
two comrades as far as the door, but there left them, 
saying, While I’m waiting for you. I’ll take a little 
turn.” The following night it was the same thing, but 
with a variation. 

I tell you, I had fun last night. I went on the 
stage. It’s a funny place, the theatre, — and to think 
of being an actor ! ” 

Johnnie, at this revelation, opened his eyes very wide. 
He was crazy after the theatre, because it fed his pas- 
sion for what was hidden and mysterious. He began 
by pretending not to believe what Jack said, in order 


90 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


that the latter might be led on to tell him all 
about it. 

^‘Nonsense; you haven’t been on the stage. You’re 
too small.” 

'‘But I tell you I have.” 

"Well, what part did you take ” 

" I do the broken bough. That’s right. There’s a 
battle ; and I’m a tree in the distance. I hold out my 
arm like that ; that’s the branch of the tree. The 
battle begins ; ' boom — rat-a-pat-pat — boom — boom 
— boom ! ’ My arm falls down to my side and works 
part of the scenery. The broken bough falls. See } ” 
"Oh, how funny!” responded Johnnie dreamily. 
" That gives you a chance.” 

"And then, you know, ! get ten sous for that, every 
night. Don’t you want to try it } ” 

" And the night school } ” 

" Play hookey, you simpleton ! ” 

" But what will Mr. Griffin say } ” 

" He won’t know it.” 

"John will tell him.” 

"Johnnie, you are wrong to say that,” John inter- 
rupted ; " you know very well that I don’t tell tales. 
But you can be sure of one thing, and that is that you 
are doing wrong. To go on the stage! In my opin- 


THE BROKEN BOUGH. 


91 


ion it would be a great deal better to attend your 
classes.” 

It’s easy to see,” replied Jack, ^‘that you don’t 
know what a fine thing it is to play in comedy.” 

Do you think,” Johnnie inquired anxiously, ‘‘that 
there would be a part for me } ” 

“Ah, well, as to that I can’t say,” replied Jack 
vainly (a queer thing, vanity !) ; “ there’s only one 
broken bough in that piece, and I’m the one that does 
it. But you can come, all the same, and look on.” 

“Don’t go,” urged John; “it will make Mr. Griffin 
angry.” 

“Only for once,” said Johnnie; “there can’t be 
any great harm in that.” 

Perfection does not exist in this world. Every- 
body has his moments of weakness. The prophets 
tell us that even the best of us sin at least seven 
times a day. John was a good boy; but he some- 
times did wrong, for all that. It is also well to bear 
in mind that the influence of evil is contagious. For 
instance. Jack’s tricks, unpardonable as they were, 
sometimes forced the most serious to laugh. 

At first John had kept away from this comrade 
in apprenticeship, whose character so little resembled 
his own. He didn’t like his style. He condemned 


92 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


his uncouth expressions, his flippant tone, and his 
mischievous suggestions. By and by he got more 

tolerant, and finally was amused by behavior that 
at first had offended him. Jack’s grimaces were ex- 
tremely diverting. John had not got so far as to 

imitate the bad manners of the other, but he no 

longer kept aloof from him. 

One morning he surprised Jack smoking! — yes, 
smoking 1 — smoking a pipe that belonged to one of 
the workmen, — a black, reeking, ill-smelling pipe I 
That’s a nasty trick you’re up to. Jack,” is what 
John ought to have said; what he really said was: 

Oh, Jack, if anybody saw you ! ” 

<^No one will see me, stupid,” said Jack. It’s 

great fun. Try it.” 

“No,” replied John with disgust. “I don’t want 
to smoke.” 

“Ah, well, you need a stomach for it; that’s true.” 

And Jack smoked — smoked for somebody else to 
see. He said that he enjoyed it, and he felt that it 
was an enviable accomplishment, — that it made him 
“a man;” but, as a matter of fact, he thought it 
detestable. It irritated his throat ; it made him 
spit — 

Nevertheless, John, for fear of appearing ridiculous. 


THE BROKEN BOUGH. 


93 


— of course, one is never ridiculous when one does 
anything wrong! — consented to take a whiff; just 
one whiff. It made him sick. The smoke filled his 
throat and his nose so that he coughed ; and then he 



swallowed some, and that made him feel very badly 
at his stomach, so that he — well, never mind. 

‘‘ I’d just like to know,” said John, when he had 
recovered, what fun there is in a pipe } ” 

Now, if I were to be allowed to drop a word into 


94 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


John’s ear, I should say to him something like this : 

Smoking is like other bad habits. It is distasteful 
at first, and we don’t like it in the least ; but we 
persevere, saying to ourselves, ‘Why shouldn’t I do 
it ? Everybody else does.’ We force ourselves to 
it. We strive as hard as possible to overcome our 
repugnance. By and by we get used to it, and the 
habit is formed. Bad habits are like eye-teeth, — they 
come of themselves when they once get started ; and 
when they have at length pushed through, it is a 
very, very painful process to pull them out.” 

Without giving up his classes, John thought, not 
without envy, of- the departure every night of Jack 
and Johnnie for the theatre, where they posed as 
“members of the company.” John was very fond of 
the theatre. He was especially fond of plays that 
make people cry, and, above all, of military dramas, 
like that, for instance, in which the French enter 
Milan under an arch of tri-colored flags. 

Seated with his parents in a remote part of the 
house, he had feasted upon the spectacle of a stage 
crowded with soldiers and adorned with gorgeous scen- 
ery. He was crazy to go behind the foot-lights, and 
to know how it was all done. 

“Well, then, why don’t you come.^” said Jack. 


THE BROKEN BOUGH. 


95 


-^^You can see the whole business. Oh, it’s immense! 
Palaces built of card-board, and zinc trees ! ” 

The night school had come to an end a week 
sooner than was usual. The pupils had been exam- 
ined, and the announcement of the prizes had been 
made. John knew that he was to have three firsts, 
so he had the right to ask Mr. Griffin for anything 
that he wanted. What should it be It was very 
perplexing. He wanted so many things ! 

He would have told the foreman that the classes 
were at an end, if through Jack’s rascally influence 
he had not conceived the idea of going on the stage. 
Letting Mr. Griffin believe that the night school was 
still in session, he started out on^ evening, very un- 
easy in mind, with his two comrades. 

They went to the Ambigu. Introduced to the stage 
manager by Jack, who still played his famous role of 
the broken bough, John was given permission to appear 
in a scene which ended about ten o’clock. He went 
up to dress, mingling with a crowd of young people, 
who as a rule were neither well-behaved nor honest, 
who spoke the most voluble slang, and who were not 
at all neat in their appearance. But the novelty of 
the occasion prevented him from dwelling on these 
•details. Like Johnnie, he was dressed as a drummer- 


96 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


boy. The scene ended. After he had filed off the 
stage, abashed at the sight of so many staring eyes, 
he went up again to put on his own clothes, — but 
his clothes were not there ! They had been stolen ; 
and so had Johnnie’s. How were thev to get back } 



‘'You’re right enough,” said the stage manager. “A 
drummer-boy’s costume ought to satisfy you.” 

“But it’s this way, sir,” said John; “the boss will 
know, seeing us in this costume, that we’ve been on 
the stage.” 

“Well, what of that He ought to be pleased with 
the honor ! ” 


THE BROKEN BOUGH 


97 


He’ll punish us.’' 

-Why.?” 

- Because he doesn’t want us to go on the stage.” 

- If he doesn’t want you to go on the stage, what 
do you do it for .? ” ' 

The man turned on his heels, for he had no time 
to carry on discussions with youngsters ; moreover, be 
had a droll, mocking, ironical air. There must surely 
be some mystery behind all this. 

At this moment Jack rejoined his mournful com- 
rades. Tearfully they told him of the evil that had 
come upon them. Jack had not been obliged to 
change his clothes, as his part demanded no special 
costume. 

-You can fix it well enough,” said Jack. -Just 
borrow these, and wear ’em home ; and when you get 
there, take ’em off.” 

- But what shall we put on in the morning .? These 
are all the clothes we have.” 

-You can hide these, and say that you can’t find 
your own, — that a thief must have got into your 
room and carried ’em off. Nothing slow about that.” 

They decided to put this clumsy scheme into opera- 
tion. You can imagine that the two youthful actors 
were not particularly proud of themselves when they 


98 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 



entered the workshop. They did not bear much re- 
semblance to the French occupying Milan. For victo- 
rious soldiers, they were not very frisky. They stole 

in quietly. Had any- 
body seen them ? 
They signalled to 
one another, and 
quickly got to bed. 

‘‘ I think,” said 
John, ''that it would 
be much better to 
tell the truth, — it 
always is.” 

" Well, I’m not 
going to,” said John- 
nie ; " and we must 
both say the same 
thing.” 

Jack was hugely amused 
at the turn affairs had 
taken. He had nothing to fear, since he had not 
lost his clothes. They passed in front of Mr. Grif- 
fin’s door. It was closed, as usual. They breathed 
again ; they were saved, or very near it. They called 
to one another softly. At that instant the door 


THE BROKEN BOUGH 


99 


opened, and Mr. Griffin appeared, with a light in his 
hand. 

What’s all this nonsense about ? ” he said. ‘‘ Why 
are you two dressed in those costumes ? Is it carni- 
val time, that you go about in that guise ? Where 
have you been ? ” 

‘‘At school,” said Johnnie. 

“ Is that true, John ? ” asked Mr. Griffin. 

“Yes,” said John faintly. 

“ Do you mean to say that they rig you out that 
way at school ? ” He took them both by the ear. 
“ You are lying.” 

“You see, sir. I’m not a soldier like them,” said 
Jack, pointing to his clothes. 

“ No ; but in spite of that you are the most guilty 
of the three,” said the foreman. “It is useless to 
try to deceive me. I know what is going on ; I always 
do. There was no school to-night. So you, John, fol- 
lowed Johnnie and Jack, who, instead of attending their 
classes have been finding occupation at the theatre. 
It was Jack who discovered this mischievous mode of 
passing the time. To-night, when you went to change 
your clothes, you found that your own had disappeared. 
That is why you are here now in this attire. Am I 
right .? ” 


lOO 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


'^Yes, sir/' said John sobbing, and astounded at 
being found out. 

‘‘We’ll never do so any more,” whined Johnnie. 

Jack said nothing, but braved the storm, insensible 
alike to punishment and reproaches. 

“ It is almost eleven o’clock,” said Mr. Griffin ; “ it 
is too late to consider the matter further to-night. I 
shall have more to say about it to-morrow. You can 
go to bed now.” 

They went to bed. How dismayed Johnnie was; 
and how sad was John ! He cried till his pillow was 
soaked with his tears ; his sobs echoed through the 
darkness. When dawn came he was still crying, but 
fatigue finally overcame him and at last he slept, — an 
agitated, feverish, restless sleep, with momentary con- 
vulsive awakenings and terrifying dreams. Oh, the 
theatre, the victorious French, the battle of the broken 
bough ! 

In the morning at the usual hour he awoke. He ex- 
pected to see the stage costume which he had taken off 
the night before ; but in its place, arranged upon the 
chair, he saw his own clothes, the ones that had been 
stolen from him. 

“ What’s this ? exclaimed Johnnie at that moment. 
“ Our clothes have come back. I don't understand it.” 


THE BROKEN BOUGH 


s lOI 


They did their best to solve the mystery, but it was 
too much for them. They were summoned to appear 
before Mr. Griffin. He noticed that John’s face was 
downcast, and that his eyes were red ; that Johnnie 
simply looked sheepish; and that Jack was grinning. 

‘‘ John,” said Mr. Griffin, '' you have been led away 
by your compan- 
ions ; and this is the 
first time. You 
have been punished 
enough, for you 
were crying all 
night. Johnnie, you 
have followed Jack 
more than once. 

Y ou have played 
truant, and have 
tried to deceive me. 

I shall reserve a more serious punishment you. 
As to you. Jack, you have been the cause of the 
whole trouble. You have induced the other two to 
do what was wrong. You are the corrupt influence 
that has infected good intentions. Saturday you must 
leave.” 

At this blow. Jack stopped grinning. Where am I 





102 4 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


to go ? ” he whimpered. I have no father or mother, 
and my uncle won’t have anything more to do with 
me ! ” 

John was touched. ‘‘Mr. Griffin,” he said, “keep 
Jack. You are sending him away because he in- 
fluenced us. Then it is we who will be making him 
unhappy ; he will have to bear the blame for us. It is 
true we went with him, but we went because we wanted 
to ; he didn’t force us to go. Wouldn’t it be fair, then, 
to punish us a little more and him a little less ? ” 

“ I have said that I shall send him away, and I shall 
send him away. The truth is, I have had enough of his 
rascalities.” 

John tried to smile as he went on with his appeal. 
“ Mr. Griffin, you told me if I got three first prizes at 
school you would give me anything I asked for. Well, 
I’ve got the three prizes. Now I ask you to forgive 
Jack.” 

“ Oh, no ; not that ! ” 

“ I ask it of you.” 

The foreman was moved by so much generosity. “ I 
cannot refuse,” said Mr. Griffin ; “ since it must be so, 
so be it. When a thing is promised, it must be done. 
But in the future I shall be more careful ; I shall prom- 
ise nothing unless I know what I am promising ! Jack 


THE BROKEN BOUGH. 


103 


may stay then. He owes his pardon to the interven- 
tion and kindness of his comrade. I hope he will not 
forget it. But from this time forth there must be no 
going on the stage, no more night absences. You have 
traded upon my good nature, and have made me suspi- 
cious. How can I believe you now, even when you are 
telling me the truth } ” 

The broken bough broke thereafter without assis- 
tance from Jack ; he returned no more to the stage. 
He was sorry for his fate, for the work that pleased 
him was the work that was most like pleasure. He had 
assumed, moreover, a stately air, and fancied that he 
produced a considerable effect when he said, I play 
at the Ambigu.” He was greatly vexed one day when 
some one responded : Play at the Ambigu, do you } 
What at } marbles ? 

Johnnie continued to be a good deal puzzled over the 
way in which the lost clothes had got back that morn- 
ing to the foot of his bed. He thought he understood, 
however, when one day he saw Mr. Griffin talking in 
the office with the stage manager. As he drew near, 
he heard Mr. Griffin say, — 

I’m much obliged to you for helping me out with 
that little experiment ; it was a great success. I don’t 
believe that my truants will ever try that game again.” 


104 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


IX. 

A GAME OF MARBLES. 

For more than a month, nothing of any consequence 
happened, with the exception of an incident which re- 
sulted in a good deal of distress to poor Johnnie. The 
lad had taken to smoking. Once in the workshop, 
when he was indulging in that pastime, — an occupa- 
tion in which no boy should indulge, — Mr. Griffin came 
upon the scene. The apprentice thrust his cigarette, 
all lighted as it was, into his trousers pocket. The 
foreman had some directions to give him, and detained 
him for several minutes. 

Seems to me,” said Mr. Griffin suddenly, that I 
smell smoke. Something is burning.” Johnnie turned 
red, but said nothing. 

^^Yes,” said a workman with a sniff ; ‘Gt’s cloth too.” 

There is a story to the effect that a Spartan youth, 
having stolen a fox, concealed it beneath his cloak, and 
the fox, in his effort to get away, bit him cruelly. But 
rather than utter a cry of pain, the boy was heroic 


A GAME OF MARBLES. 


lOS 


enough to endure his suffering with a smile upon his 
face. Johnnie was very far from being a Spartan, and 
as his flesh began to scorch he could bear up no longer. 

My trousers are afire, sir ! ” he called out, putting 
his hand to his pocket. shall be blistered!” 


Your trousers on fire ! What 



at all.” Johnnie drew out 
a smouldering handkerchief, and threw it on the floor. 

Fire ! Fire I ” cried Jack. He seized a pail of water, 
and threw it over his comrade, and so extinguished the 
threatening conflagration. The workmen came running 
up. The bucket brigade ain’t needed ; fire’s out,” 
said Jack, who never stood on ceremony, even with a 
question of grammar. 


io6 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


‘‘Once more I ask you,” said Mr. Griffin to Johnnie^ 
“ how did your pocket get afire } Were you carrying 
matches ? ” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Johnnie, who was trying to wipe 
himself dry ; “ yes, sir, that was it ; a match must have 
got afire.” 

“ You don’t think of any other reason ? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ I am more wise than you, my lad. I see something 
there on the floor, in your handkerchief ; thrown down 
with it, no doubt. It’s a cigarette. You smoke, then, 
do you ? That’s a nice habit for one of your age.” 

The burn on his leg made Johnnie suffer intensely. 
They had to bandage it to get it to heal ; and he con- 
tinued to keep the marks in the form of a permanent 
scar. So he had a certificate of disobedience written 
on his leg, to carry about with him all his life. Wasn’t 
that delightful ? 

While Mr. Griffin was rebuking Johnnie, Jack slipped 
away, and hid the pipe which he had taken so much 
trouble to be on friendly terms with. So much trouble, 
— ah, yes; but one must be “a man,” you know. It 
was a singular fact that Jack, who strove so valiantly to 
be a man in smoking, made no effort whatever to be a 
man at work. He was much given to playing marbles, 


A GAME OF MARBLES. 


107 


and always had some in his pocket. When he was out 
on an errand, and met other idlers like himself, he was 
always ready to join in a game. The time came when 
his fondness for this sport cost him dear. 

He was sent out to fill an order. Jeweller’s appren- 
tices carry their goods in small tin boxes, which are 
fastened to them with an iron chain. Arrived at the 
park, near the Palais-Royal, he met, near a toy and 
candy stand, with three or four young loafers, who were 
waiting for something to turn up. His conscience told 

him that he had better get away from them as quickly 

\ 

as possible ; but they hung on and proposed a game of 
marbles, and he agreed. 

'‘All right,” he said ; "but it must be a short one, for 
I’ve got some jewellery in this box that ought to be de- 
livered at once.” 

" Oh, yes ; only one little game.” 

The game began. An older and larger boy watched 
the play with much interest. The other players made 
as if they did not know him ; but from certain signs that 
they exchanged, it was clear that he belonged to the 
same gang, and for some reason did not wish to be 
openly recognized. 

A shot was made, and they all got their heads to- 
gether to decide impartially as to the result. The game 


io8 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


was ended, and Jack, excited with his victory, — for he 
had won, — was flushed with animation and pleasure. 

^‘You’ve lost, you fellows,” he cried triumphantly. 
‘‘I scooped the lot.” 



Having pocketed his gains. Jack concluded to finish 
his errand. It was not yet very late, and Mr. Griffin 
had told him to be quick. Suddenly he turned pale, 
and glanced around wildly. 


A GAME OF MARBLES. 


109 


‘‘My box!” he stammered; '‘my box I Somebody 
has stolen my box 1 ” 

The boys with whom he had been playing seemed to 
be very much surprised. One of them pretended to 
remember that in the midst of the game he had seen 
some strange-looking fellow hanging around, and that 
probably was the thief. He said this to draw Jack’s 
suspicions from the larger boy, who had been watching 
them, and who had disappeared. 

Jack’s grief was lamentable to see. Huge tears rolled 
down his face, and the sight of his despair attracted 
everybody in the park. The babies who were sticking 
up chestnut leaves in the sand and called them forests ; 
the little girls who were holding dolls’ tea-parties, or 
skipping the rope, or rolling hoops, or sailing balloons ; 
the mammas, who talked together under the shade of 
the trees ; the nurses, with their big beribboned caps 
and their immense aprons, — everybody came hurrying 
up to see what the jeweller’s apprentice was crying 
about. 

"Don’t let him get near the fountain,” said a little 
girl, with an air of great seriousness ; " he might throw 
himself in. Somebody’s doll was drowned there the 
other day.” 

The officer in charge of the park drew near. He 


I lO 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


was a very dignified, very important-looking personage, 
in his handsome bottle-green uniform, with his gilt- 
handled sword ; and on his breast he wore the cross of 



the Legion of Honor. As he came up, the mothers of 
the little girls and the nurses respectfully drew back. 


The officer understood at once what had happened. 


A GAME OF MARBLES. 


1 1 1 


and that without waiting to hear any explanation. He 
drew up his white mustache to the tip of his red 
nose, until it assumed the appearance of a magnificent 
circumflex accent, and feeling for his peaceful snuff- 
box, said, — 

“I know how it is. Well, my lad, you are the fifth 
to whom the same thing has happened this year. Your 
jewellery has been stolen. Another time you’ll be care- 
ful how you get to playing with the first lazy rascals 
you come across.” 

Poor little boy,” said the people, as they went away. 

It’s a hard place for him, all the same. His employer 
will scold him, — beat him perhaps.” 

‘‘Ah,” sighed Jack amid his sobs, “such things don’t 
happen to anybody but me.” 

Of course Jack was wrong. Such things do not hap- 
pen, it is true, to boys who are faithful to their duty, 
but do happen to those who, like him, are faithless to 
their trust. 

“ I can never go back,” he sobbed ; “ I can never go 

back again.” And after meditating a moment or two 

c 

he departed at a rapid pace, and quickly disappeared. 


II2 


THE THREE APPRENTICES 


X. 

BISQUINE ON THE TRAIL. 

Jack’s a good while getting back,” said Mr. Griffin, 
looking at the clock ; “ he must be having a good time 
somewhere.” Night came, and Jack had not yet 
returned. 

What,” said Mother Bonnet, not back yet } Oh ! 
something must have happened to him ; I am sure of it ! 
I’m going to keep his soup hot for him.” 

They sent John to the place where Jack was to go, 
and found that Jack had not been there. By night 
they were very much alarmed. Mr. Griffin set the 
police at work on tht case ; but neither at the hospitals 
among the injured, nor anywhere else, could any youth 
be found who answered to the description. Good 
Mother Bonnet did not sleep at all ; she was distracted 
with anxiety. Oh, dear ! ” she said, ‘‘ oh, dear ! What 
can have happened to him ? ” Day came ; and the fugi- 
tive did not appear. 

‘‘ Let us return to work,” said Mr. Griffin. ‘‘ The 


BISQUINE ON THE TRAIL, 


II3 



poor lad must have thought that the jewellery in his box 
was worth more than it really was ; and he has run 
away, at the instigation of some evil associates.” 

At the workshops this was the sole subject of conver- 
sation. Policemen came 


all day long and had in- 
terviews with Mr. Griffin. 

They even questioned 
John and Johnnie. 

About two o’clock they 
reported that a tin box, 
bearing the name of Du- 
pont, had been found *c-' 
by a workman in the 
Buttes-Chaumont park. 

It was the one that 
had contained the 
jewellery, but it 
was empty. The 
fact that the lock 
had been forced 
open was regarded as significant. 

‘‘ It could not have been Jack who opened it,” said 
Mr. Griffin ; he would have used his key. The box 
has been broken open, and must, therefore, have been 
stolen.” 


1 14 the three apprentices. 

Up to that time he had been very calm in his 
demeanor ; but now he began to exhibit a good deal of 
uneasiness. What had become of Jack.^ It was all 
very strange. 

Would another night pass without the solution of the 
mystery } The prefect of police informed Mr. Dupont 
that they had been making investigations outside of 
Paris ; and that a youth, corresponding to the description 
given, had been seen on the route to Amiens, and that 
they were now upon his track. 

‘‘Ah, if it is only he!” exclaimed Mother Bonnet. 
“ But I am afraid that something worse has hap- 
pened.” 

Bisquine shared in the general disquietude, and 
seemed to realize the loss of her master. At night she 
would not lie down, but kept whining, and went all 
over the place as if searching for something. 

“Bisquine acts as if she knew all about it,” said 
John; and addressing himself to the dog he asked, 
“ Where’s your master } ” 

Bisquine barked some sort of response, and threw 
herself against a door leading to an attic. It often 
happens that dogs know what should be done, but do 
not know how to interpret their knowledge to others. 
This time it so happened that the door was unfastened. 


BISQUINE ON THE TRAIL. 


IIS 

and Bisquine disappeared. She was gone a long time ; 
and when she came back, she was very emphatic in 
making her presence known ; and then went again 
toward the attic, turning back frequently in dog 
fashion, as if inviting the others to follow. 

Mother Bonnet, accompanied by John, had occasion 
to go to the attic to get sausages, and Bisquine followed 
them with frantic demonstrations of joy. The good 
woman had no more than entered the place when she 
looked about wildly, and exclaimed in alarm, — 

^‘For the land’s sake; there’s somebody up here!” 
Mother Bonnet was not mistaken. Somebody was 
there ; and that somebody, shrinking back shamefacedly 
in a corner, was Jack. 

^^Well,” Bisquine seemed to say, as she jumped 
madly about, ‘‘ I hope you are stupid enough ! Dear 
me ; and these two-legged people act as if they thought 
they were always so very bright ! ” 

Jack had concealed himself after the manner of an 
ostrich, which thinks it is hidden when it has its head 
in the sand. 

‘‘ What are you doing here ? ” asked Mother Bonnet. 

Ah, wretch that you are, to have caused us so much 
worry 1 We’re almost dead with looking for you. How 
long have you been here ? ” 


ii6 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


Jack got up; he was covered with dust, and littered 
with straw. 

About two days,” he responded. 

Two days ! Can it be possible } Haven’t you 
been hungry } ” 

Oh, yes ; I’ve been hungry.” 



And you have been here two days without eating 
anything } ” 

‘^Yes; I had something to eat,” said Jack. ‘‘I ate 
sausages.” 

Have you eaten them all ? ” exclaimed Mother 
Bonnet, lifting her hands with a despairing gesture. 
‘‘Yes, I ate them all, except a little piece that 



BISQUINE ON THE TRAIL. 


117 


I had left, and that Bisquine took a few moments 
ago.” 

It was probable that Bisquine did not think the tip 
end of a sausage too great a reward for all the suffer- 
ing that had been saved. 

Mother Bonnet was sorry about the sausages ; but the 
delight at seeing alive the poor child, whom she believed 
to be dead, was so great that she hadn’t the heart to 
scold him. 

John had leaped down the stairs four at a time, 
rushed like a lunatic into the shop, and called out, — 

^‘Jack’s found. He’s in the attic. Come and see ! ” 
It’s just like the little scamp,” said Mr. Griffin, 
realizing how unnecessary had been the anxiety of the 
last two days. 

So here you are, you good-for-nothing,” cried Mr. 
Dupont at a distance, as Jack was led trembling before 
him. We were foolish, indeed, to waste our strength 
in worrying about you.” 

Jack undertook to explain. He said nothing about 
the game of marbles, but pretended that he had been 
robbed while going along the street ; that discovering 
the theft, he had not dared show himself at the shop, 
and so had hidden in the attic. Once in the attic, he 
had been afraid to come out. 


Il8 THE THREE APPRENTICES, 

Then, if no one had gone up there, you would have 
stayed ? 

‘^No,” said Jack artlessly; ‘‘I should have come 
down. There weren’t any more sausages.” 

‘‘Ah, yes, Mr. Charles,” lamented Mother Bonnet; 
“he’s eaten the whole of them. But he must have been 
very hungry, mustn’t he .^ ” 

“ Glutton, scatter-brain, sluggard, — you certainly 
have a fine collection of vices.” And Mr. Dupont 
sought his bed-chamber, saying : “ We’ll attend to this 
matter to-morrow, Griffin.” 

“ We will, indeed, sir.” 

Jack was given his choice of two things. He could 
pay for the jewellery, or he could leave. Mr. Dupont 
estimated that the jewels were worth forty francs, that 
being cost price. Jack, instead of spending the fees 
that he got, or adding them to his weekly earnings, was 
to put the money aside until the required sum had been 
attained. He had three months in which to accomplish 
this. If by that time the jewellery was not paid for, he 
would be sent away, and must never hope to be taken 
back. They might have made up the sum out of his 
wages ; but in order that the lesson might be more im- 
pressive they desired that it should be the result of his 
own savings. 


BISQUINE ON THE TRAIL. II9 

Forty francs/’ thought Jack ; forty sums of twenty 
sous each, — there’s richness for you ! And all for 
what ? To pay for five marbles ! So they cost me 
eight francs apiece. I made a bad bargain that time. 
I could have got them for a sou at any grocer’s shop.” 


) 


120 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


XL 

John’s savings. 

Several weeks had passed since the incidents last 
related. ‘‘ Next month,” said Mr. Griffin to Jack, ‘^you 
must finish paying for the jewellery you lost. How much 
have you in hand now ” 

I don’t know,” answered Jack. 

Have you noticed how people often say they don’t 
know when anything disagreeable is asked them } 

^^You can easily find out,” responded Mr. Griffin; 
‘^reckon it up.” 

That was an order. Jack counted and counted again. 
He was ashamed to declare the result. 

'‘Well,” continued the foreman, "you have counted. 
How much is it ” 

"I’ve got — I’ve got — well. I’ve got seventeen 
sous.” 

" Is it possible } Seventeen sous already ! My lad, 
at this rate you will have as many as twenty-four by the 
end of next month. Evidently there is nothing to be 


JOHN^S SAVINGS. 


I2I 


done with you. You may take it for granted that 
month after next you will be no longer here.” 

John found Jack in tears. ‘^What’s the matter } ” he 
asked ; ‘^what’s happened } ” 

‘^They’re going to send me away. I’ve only seven- 
teen sous. I thought they were only joking when they 



told me I’d have to pay up those forty francs. I thought 
they would forget about it. I didn’t realize they meant 
business. I’m in a fine fix.” 

What have you done with your wages and your 
fees .? ” 

I’ve bought things for Bisquine to eat.” 

‘‘ Yes ; and more than that, you’ve bought sweets for 
yourself to eat. Then your pipe has cost more than 


122 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


Bisquine. Give up tobacco, save your money, and you’ll 
find out that I’m right ; and next month you’ll have your 
forty francs.” 

‘‘ Oh, nonsense ! ” 

Try it.” 

‘‘Well, I’ll try.” 

John calculated that with the best intentions in the 
world it would be impossible for Jack to get the forty 
francs together in time. On the other hand, he knew 
that Mr. Dupont was not likely to yield when he had 
made up his mind to anything. It was plain, then, that 
Jack would be sent away unless some means could be 
found to assist him. After all, why not } Poor Jack 
had serious faults ; but he had also some good qualities, 
and he was not bad at heart. Why should he not be 
saved from taking the wrong path } Is it not humane 
and right that we should help one another 

Suddenly the idea of saving up his own earnings 
flashed into John’s mind. What a surprise that would 
be for Jack! Several days before the critical moment, 
while he was lamenting over his inability to attain the 
desired object, how delightful it would be to say to him : 
“ How much do you need to make it up } Well, then, 
we’ll put in the rest !” John said “We’ll put in the 
rest,” for he counted on help from Johnnie. The latter. 


JOHN^S SAVINGS. 


123 


in fact, agreed, but declared that he wouldn’t be able to 
do very much; that he saw no reason why we should 
rob ourselves of everything for the sake of other people. 

He’ll pay us back,” said John. 

^‘Yes; a lot he will. If I’m going 
to make a present. I’ll make a present ; 
then I’ll know where I am.” 

They began to save their 
money. Nothing particu- 
lar of importance happened 
in the workshop for 
some time after this, V 
except that Johnnie 
scared Mother Bonnet 
almost to death by 
wrapping himself up 
sheets and masquer- 
ghost. A little later 
the absurd idea of engraving sous. Mr. 

Griffin explained to him that the law punished muti- 
lation of coin, and that if he tried to put his sous in 
circulation he would run the risk of being arrested. 

How much, now.?” asked John one day of Jack, as 
the eventful time drew near. 

‘‘Well, if you want to know, just thirteen francs.” 




124 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


‘‘You’re getting on ; don’t be discouraged.” 

’Twas all very well for John to say don’t be discour- 
aged. Jack had made a semblance at trying, and dis- 
couragement came easy to him. One night, as he was 
going up-stairs to bed. Jack saw John stooping over a 
work bench, and apparently very much occupied with 
something. What could he be making.^ Jack at first 
was disposed to put up some trick on him ; but while 
he was thinking what he could do, he saw John was 
counting over some money. The coins rang against 
each other. There must be a lot of them. 

“Ho, ho — hidden treasure!” said Jack to himself. 
And instead of making his presence known, he quietly 
withdrew, stepping on tip-toe. 


THE ROBBERY. 


125 


XII. 

THE ROBBERY. 

The next day Jack, contrary to his usual manner, 
seemed to be very gloomy. Ordinarily he had a great 
appetite, but now he ate very little. He avoided meet- 
ing John’s eyes. Everything seemed to annoy him, 
even Bisquine’s affectionate caresses. 

The three apprentices went to bed at the usual hour ; 
but Jack did not sleep. When he heard his two com- 
panions breathing heavily, he got up, very, very softly, 
taking the utmost precaution. The room was extremely 
dark. He tip-toed his way to the door, carefully lifted 
the latch, and pulled it towards him ; the door creaked. 
Terrified at the noise, he stood rooted to the spot, not 
daring to go on or to go back. One of the sleepers 
stirred uneasily, as if he were going to wake up. Jack 
listened with all his ears, greatly alarmed. Nothing 
happened, and at length he ventured to continue on his 
course. Half way down the staircase he stopped, and 
leaned, all of a tremble, against the wall. 


126 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


What was Jack going to do ? A lamentable deed. 
He was going — he was going, — my pen hesitates to 
set down the words — he was going to steal from John, 
his little comrade ! 

He had seen John counting the money, and he knew 

where it was hid- 
den. The un- 
happy wretch, 
who with indus- 
try and thrift 
might have been 
able to save these 
forty francs that 
he needed, had 
preferred to be 
idle and to waste 
his money, and 
now had reached 
the point where to gain the desired end he was willing 
to stoop to crime. 

He scrambled down the staircase. When he reached 
the workshop, which was haunted by mysterious 
shadows, a frightful panic seized him. What if some- 
body should see him } He was shaken by a chill, and 
his teeth chattered. His hands were clenched ; his 



THE ROBBERY. 


127 




eyes opened wide and glared horribly. His cheeks 
turned greenish in his pallor, and his hair stood right 
straight up on the top of his head. 

He fancied that strange shapes threatened him, and 
that these shapes took human form. He thought he 
felt hands laid on his shoulders, that rustlings passed 
about him, and that sinister voices chuckled in his ears. 
Before his eyes he 
saw a procession of 
little vagabonds, like 
those he had often 
beheld in reality, each 
with his tiny hands 
firmly pinioned, and 
with a policeman on 
either side. He had 
visions of ghastly prisons and the horrors of the con- 
vict galleys. All at once he saw before him, clad in 
white, an actual form, a human shape, which arose and 
stood upright before him. When he moved. It moved ; 
when he stopped. It stopped ; when he lifted his arm. 
It lifted an arm. His terror was so great, that he cried 
for mercy, and fell on his knees with outstretched hands. 
His hands touched glass. What he had taken for 
Something, was his own image, reflected in a mirror. 



128 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


He got up. A momentary sense of shame for the 
deed he contemplated came over him, and he was dis- 
posed to flee. Good and evil instincts battled flercely 
within him. He sought the door to go back, but in his 
agitation he could not find it. In groping about, his 
hand fell on John’s work-bench. The hidden treasure 



was there, — there he could -find the money ! The 
good instincts were wholly vanquished. 

The moon, hitherto concealed, now shone forth. 
The workshop was inundated with her searching light. 
Jack’s shadow, enlarged to gigantic proportions, swept 
across the floor, bent upward at the baseboard, and 
struck upon the wall. To Jack, this sudden illumina- 
tion was more terrifying than darkness. 


THE ROBBERY. 


129 


Jack saw the pasteboard box and its contents. He 
thrust out his hand ; it was full, — full of sous and 
silver pieces. He had it, then ! Given over to evil, 
hesitating no longer, paying no heed to the voice of 
conscience thundering in his ears : Thou art a thief ! 
Thou art a thief ! Thou art a thief ! ” — he fled. The 
moon did not hide her face ; she would not be the ac- 
complice of his sins. She followed the malefactor even 
to his bed ; but it was in vain that she sought to de- 
nounce him. John and Johnnie slept in peace, having 
nothing with which to reproach themselves ; and they 
had not awakened to perceive the absence of their 
guilty companion. 

Jack didn’t know what to do with his booty. What 
should he do with the money } Should he hide it in 
his bed.^ That wouldn’t do at all. Mother Bonnet 
would be sure to find it. One by one, that the coins 
might make no sound, he put them carefully in his 
handkerchief and tied them up ; then he placed his 
spoils in the bottom of one of his shoes. Then he 
went to bed, but not to sleep. His mind was haunted 
by the spectres of shame and remorse. He burned 
with fever ; he shivered with chill. 

Work went on the next day as usual. Having to 
take the money from his shoe. Jack hid it in a corner, 


130 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


where he thought no one could possibly find it. As he 
had confessed to John the night before that he had 
only thirteen francs, it would not do for him to put the 
stolen money with his own, for the sudden increase of 
his wealth would be too suspicious. He contented him- 
self with taking fifty sous ; and the rest, about twenty 
francs in all, he was quite at loss how to dispose of. 

That money was a constant terror to him. With 
every breath he drew, he trembled on the brink of dis- 
covery. Neglecting to take it with him when he was 
sent on an errand, he dreaded to go back, lest the theft 
might have come to light in the course of his absence. 
Ah, yes ; that game of marbles was costing him very 
dear ! 

One day while he was at his work he saw John slyly 
fumbling about the work-bench. He knew that the 
other must be wanting to put a few sous in the little 
box. He watched him with troubled eyes, and distinctly 
saw him rumaging every nook and corner. John stood 
up, very red in the face ; Jack hung his head and 
turned very pale. 

I’ve been robbed,” said John. I can’t find the 
money I put here.” 

‘‘What’s that.^” interrupted Mr. Griffin. 

“ I say, sir, that I put some money here, and it ’s 
been taken.” 


THE ROBBERY. 


I3I 

Tut, tut ! ” responded the foreman in a stern tone ; 
‘‘you must have overlooked it. Look again. We don’t 
have thieves here.” 

The workmen left their tasks and gathered around, 
anxious lest they fall into unjust suspicion. Jack had 
the hardihood to say, — 

“ I hope they haven’t taken my money too ! ” He 
leaned over his bench. “Oh, no,” he continued; “it is 
still there. I have my thirteen francs.” 

The foreman repeated his belief that the money had 
not been stolen. “ Strangers never come here. You 
haven’t looked carefully. John, you’ll find your money 
later on.” 

“ Well,” said Jack, “ I’m going to put mine where it 
’ll be safe ; then, if there’s thievery going on here ” — 

Mr. Griffin looked at him so sternly that he cast 
down his eyes in great confusion. 

“We’ll have a hunt for it during the dinner-hour,” 
said Mr. Griffin; “and if we don’t find it. I’ll consider 
what we had better do.” 

Johnnie was absent during the whole scene. Jack 
made as if he would console John. 

“Look here. Jack,” said John to the other. “You 
are the one that ought to complain most.” 

“ What ! I ” interrupted Jack, all of a tremble, his 


132 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


fears making him fancy an accusation in everything 
that was said to him. 

“ Yes, you ; for that money was your own.” 

Mine ? Well, I guess not ! Mine’s put away.” 

You weren’t able to make up your forty francs ; so 
we thought, Johnnie and I, that we’d help you out. 

We’ve been saving up. That little hoard was to be a 

< 

surprise to you. Fact is, it was your money.” 

''Forme.^” said Jack; ‘Tor me and” — he did not 
finish. He was afraid in his emotion^ that he had 
already betrayed himself with his outcry and start of 
surprise. He was overcome with grief. “ For me ! ” 
he said to himself in despair. “ Oh, it’s enough to 
drive me crazy ! ” 

The police might come now if they liked ; no punish- 
ment could be found equal to that which he was now 
undergoing. He had actually stolen the money that his 
more than generous comrades had planned to give him. 
He had not only stolen from others, but he had stolen 
from himself. The money he had taken from a friend 
had been meant for him. He might have it freely and 
openly, and to get it he had committed a crime. What 
a monster he must be ! He compared himself with his 
comrades, who had denied themselves to help him and 
whom he had robbed of the fruits of their self-denial. 


THE ROBBERY. 


133 


and he was bitterly ashamed. Yes, his heart was sore 
with his remorse ; and he suffered deeply. 

He thought of throwing himself into John’s arms, 
and of seeking forgiveness by telling the truth, — the 
whole truth. There was still time. The money had 
not been spent. But he was so awkward, and so unused 
to asking pardon for his sins, that he couldn’t bring 
himself to the point. The thought of putting the 
money back did not occur to him. In that case John 
would have thought himself mistaken, and would have 
said, I’ve found it. I didn’t look carefully.” And 
they would have heard no more about it. 

But who knows. Fate perhaps ordained that Jack’s 
guilty action should not be allowed to pass without 
further punishment. It may be that in order to bring 
him back into the pathway of uprightness and honor. 
Jack, who did not learn his lessons easily, needed to 
suffer more ; for he was destined to undergo a long and 
painful and severe course of retribution. 


134 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


XIII. 

THE THIEF DISCOVERED. 

That afternoon 
Jack went out on 
an errand. The 
money burned in 
his pockets. He 
planned to throw it 
from one of the 
bridges into the 
Seine or else into a sewer. He rode in an ominibus 
to get rid of six sous. He found some big boys play- 
ing at pitch-penny. He played with them, hoping to 
lose, but luck was against him ; he won, and they 

wanted to fight him. He gave a handful of money to 

a beggar, and hoped this deed of generosity would bring 
him happiness. 

He paused in a doorway, and counted what he had 
left, — ten francs and eleven sous. 

'Hf I said that I found ten francs in gold,” he 



THE THIEF DISCOVERED. 


135 


thought, they would believe me ; for anybody might 
find ten francs in gold. I could offer it to John, to 



make up for what he had lost, and 
that would ease off my debt to him.” 
This course of reasoning calmed down 
his conscience a little. He even fancied himself apply- 
► ing this remedy 
several times, and 
so repairing his sin. 

His distress of mind 
was so great that 
even the thought 
of partial restitu- 
tion was comfort- 
ing to him. He 
changed his money 
for a gold piece. When conscience is tranquil, the 


136 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

Stomach asserts itself. It occurred to Jack that he 
was hungry, and he went boldly to a bakeshop and 
spent eight sous for cakes. The eight sous thus dis- 
posed of, and the fifty sous that he had put aside, were 

all the profit that he 
would derive from his 
abominable action. In 
fact, it was very little ; 
but for many years it 
has been known that 
he who makes thievery 
his profession is a fool 
for his pains, and that 
the only way truly to 
get on in the world is , 
by being honest. 

Clutching the gold 
piece he went home. 
He fancied that nothing would be easier than to say. 
I’ve found ten francs ! ” When it came to the point 
of telling this lie, he hesitated. He felt sure that they 
would not believe him, that he would get all mixed up 
in trying to make explanations, and that his embarrass- 
ment would show his guilt. What should he do with 
the ten francs then } Run the risk of having them 



THE THIEF DISCOVERED. 


137 


found in his possession ? No ; on the whole, the best 
way would be to do as he had first thought of doing. 

After starting to speak a hundred times, he said sud- 
denly, as if struck with an idea, and in a tone which he 
strove to make natural, — 



Say, I’m in luck, I am ! What do you think ? I’ve 
found ten francs ! ” 

The workmen all looked at him, and then at one an- 
other. Who ever heard of an apprentice finding ten 
francs, and waiting until after he had got to work before 
speaking of it } Would not his first impulse be as soon 
as he reached the threshold to shout forth his joy at 
the discovery he had made } 


138 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


You are better off than John, then,’-’ said Mr. 
Grififin. ‘‘ He loses twenty francs, and you find ten of 
them. But of course they are not the same } No 
Sometimes, you know, chance is a queer thing.” 

But you see, sir,” replied Jack, laughing with a 
laugh that rang false, '' they couldn’t be the same. Ten 
francs are not twenty francs, and then the money John 
lost wasn’t in gold.” 

You are quite sure that it wasn’t in gold } ” 

Jack looked troubled, and then suddenly recovered 
himself. I don’t suppose it was.” 

‘‘No,” interrupted John quickly; “it was silver and 
copper.” 

“If any of my sous turn up,” said Johnnie, “I’d 
recognize them at once. They are the same ones, Mr. 
Griffin, that I did the engraving on.” 

“That’s your way, is it ” said Mr. Grififiin ; “you 
save up sous for others that you can’t use yourself.” 

Jack took the ten-franc piece from his pocket and 
held it up. 

“ How did you find it } ” the foreman asked. 

“ In the mud.” 

“ For a coin found in the mud, it looks very clean.” 

“ Oh ! I wiped it.” 

“ Whereabouts did you find it } ” 


THE THIEF DISCOVERED. 


139 


''On the boulevard, near an omnibus stand.” 

Mr. Griffin looked thoughtful. Jack, delighted with 
his inventiveness, and believing that his falsehood was 
bound to succeed, went on talking. 

"Then I said to myself, ‘There, now, that comes in 
well ; John’s lost his money, and I’ll give him my ten 
francs ! ’ ” 

" ' My ten francs,’ ” said Mr. Griffin ; " they are not 
yours.” 

" Why not, if I found them ? Perhaps you don’t 
think I found ’em ? Perhaps you think I stole ’em ! ” 

" Goodness, how you run on ! If you get so hot, 
trying to defend yourself when nobody has accused you, 
we shall surely think you are guilty. I say once more 
that those ten francs are not yours. Money found in 
the street should be taken to the commissary of police, 
in order that the loser may reclaim it. To keep it 
would be a theft, — a theft that conscience reproves, 
and that the law would punish.” 

"But,” said Jack artlessly, not expecting this turn of 
affairs, "but suppose nobody lost it .^ ” 

" Eh ? What’s that you say ^ ” 

" Suppose that no one came to reclaim the money ? ” 
said Jack, perceiving that he had very nearly given 
himself away. 


140 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

‘'After a year and a day it would belong to you.” 

“ Then in a year and a day I could have it.” 

“ Yes ; if no one came to ask for it meanwhile, I tell 
you.” 

“ Well, nobody would come,” said Jack, in a deliber- 
ate tone. 

“How do you know Your answers are very 
strange and very positive.” 

A workman, who was annoyed by the theft, and 
vexed to think that any of them might be under suspi- 
cion, spoke up, and said, — 

“ It’s pretty queer, I think.” 

“ Queer ! Queer ! ” cried Jack. “ Perhaps you 
mean that I stole it ; you great, lumbering sneak, you ! ” 
Once started. Jack couldn’t stop. “ Perhaps you want 
to say that I stole that other money } Could I know 
that they had money there in a box } What could I 
have done with the money, supposing I’d taken it } If 
I’d kept it, I should have been found out. Search me, 
if you think I did it. Search, and see for yourself ! 
Here’s my money in this box ; there are fifteen francs. 
John knows that I have fifteen francs.” He brought 
his box, and with a fine gesture of assumed indignation 
threw it on the bench. The coins flew in all directions. 


“Count it,” said Jack proudly. 


THE THIEF DISCOVERED, 


I4I 

One sou rolled to the floor. Johnnie stooped over 
and picked it up. Just as he was about to throw it 
with the others, he paused and looked at it in surprise. 

Why, that’s very funny,” he said ; it’s one of my 
engraved sous ! ” They all gathered around him. ‘‘ It’s 
one of the sous that I put in John’s box! ” 

Here’s another,” said the workman whom Jack 
had called a lumbering sneak. 

Another still — and another,” said Johnnie. '' Those 
are my sous. How did they get there ” 

Jack had nothing to say. He had lost his magnificent 
air of assurance. He was whiter than his shirt-collar, 
and all of a tremble ; it was pitiable to see him. 

'‘Jack,” asked Mr. Griffin sternly, "where did those 
sous come from } ” 

"I — I — don’t — I don’t know — I — I ” — stam- 
mered the unhappy lad, shrinking with terror, and seeing 
all hope of escape taken from him. He burst into sobs. 

Mr. Griffin seized him with one hand, and lifted him 
on to the work-bench. 

"There, men,” he said; "there’s the thief!” John 
and Johnnie looked on in amazement. " And this time,” 
said the foreman, "there’ll be no mercy for him. A 
thief ! ” 

They all stood in a group around the miserable ' 


142 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


wretch, who continued to sob, hiding his face in his 
crossed arms. Mr. Griffin reminded the boy of all the 
kindness that had been shown him, and of the many 
times that he had been pardoned for his faults. 

Stealing from the comrades who were trying to help 
you ; taking the money that they were going to give 
you ! You scoundrel ! you gallows’ bird ! ” 

Oh, forgive me ! ” sobbed the despairing wretch, 
dragging himself to his knees ; oh, forgive me ! I’ll 
never do it again, I promise you. Forgive me this 
time ! ” 

‘‘Let you off once more No. Our patience is at 
an end.” He called the porter. 

“What is Mr. Griffin up to now ” said John and 
Johnnie to each other. • 

“ Stephen,” said the foreman, “ while we’re waiting 
for Mr. Dupont, take this scapegrace to the cellar and 
lock him up there. Lock him up,” he repeated. “ Use 
the safety-lock, and see that the windows are barred.” 
Jack made no struggle. He followed the porter hum- 
bly, with bowed head. The door closed behind him ; 
and they could hear his violent sobs in the distance. 
Greatly affected by what had occurred, each resumed 
his task in silence. 


1 


ESCAPE. 


143 


XIV. 

ESCAPE. 

When Mr. Dupont came 
in, they went down to the 
cellar to look for Jack and 
1 to summon him to appear 
before a sort of family coun- 
cil. They were disposed to 
give him the benefit of extenuating cir- 
cumstances, for the reason that he had tried to make 
restitution of a part of the stolen money, and thus had 
manifested some degree at least of remorse. They 
opened the cellar door, and called three times very 
loudly, ''Jack! Jack I Jack!” But Jack did not 
reply. He had got away. 

Now, if this were a sensational romance of the kind 
that Jack was wont to devour in secret, the author 
would pause at this point in the story, and work up your 
emotions to the highest pitch by carefully abstaining 
from telling you what had become of the hero. He 




144 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


would encourage your alarmed fancy to chase the fugitive 
into the most unexpected quarters ; and it would only be 
after pages and pages that he would let you find our 
Jack, in whom, perhaps, you are somewhat interested. 
For in contrast with him, John and Johnnie seem, — do 
they not — a trifle tame You love them of course 



better than you do Jack, but you find them less capti- 
vating. They are well-behaved ; they are not all the 
time doing foolish or wicked things ; and their lives are 
not in the least sensational. It has been said that the 
most fortunate nations are those who have no history ; 
and it is just the same with children who are good. 
John had no history; Johnnie had none to speak of. 


ESCAPE. 


145 


But what a history was Jack’s ! Why, one could make 
a volume of it ! 

Yes ; he had got away. Being spare of flesh, he had 
squeezed through the window in spite of the bars, and 
thence got into the street. He had run straight ahead. 



without knowing where, and simply intent on getting 
away. He did not look back for fear of seeing the 
police hurrying after him. Out of breath at last, he 
paused in a doorway. A policeman, who was going by, 
stopped there too. Jack was very much frightened ; he 
thought that the policeman must know something about 
him and wanted to arrest him. 


146 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


XV. 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 



He went on, and on, and on, to the very edge of the 
Saint-Antoine district. It was the period when the 

Gingerbread Fair 
was in full blast. 
Seeking for distrac- 
tion, he wandered 
about among the 
booths. As it was a 


with which he bought 
bread ; and having eaten it near a drinking fountain, 
he drew a little water, and drank it from the hollow 
of his hand. 


week-day, not many 
people were to be 
seen. He began to 
be hungry, and 
searching his pock- 
ets found two sous 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 


147 


Night came, and with it the crowd. The lamps were 
lighted and shone resplendently about the larger booths, 
while at the smaller ones they scarcely attained the 
dignity of as many candles. Competition was fierce, and 
the racket was deafening. The rival showmen bellowed 



and bawled and yelled. The organs at the merry-go- 
rounds, tricked out in tinsel and imitation gems, ground 
forth agonizing symphonies in response to the winded 
orchestras in the menageries, where cornets out of tune 
held the lead. Tambourines rumbled, and the cymbals 
responded with their sonorous bang, bang ! ” By 
snatches, above this instrumental din, rose the harsh. 


148 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


deep voice of the mummers, and the sharp, shrill cry of 
the mountebanks. 

Deafened with the noise, and dazed with the lights, 
the dust, the shouts, the merriment, and the tumult. 
Jack stopped before the massacres,” where one could, 
at two shots for a sou, have the privilege of knocking 
over eminent personages, and, if successful, getting six 
macaroons into the bargain. Then there were turn- 
tables littered with china ornaments, where one had the 
chance of always making a lucky stroke, — provided one 
were the proprietor of the concern ; hydraulic shooting- 
galleries, where eggs danced and pipes waltzed in a jet 
of water, and a formidable lion roared when one hit the 
bull’s-eye; fortune-tellers, who revealed the future (what 
might they not have made known to Jack, if he had 
been rich enough to consult them !) ; booths, hiding fat 
women weighing four hundred pounds, and whose aston- 
ishing charms were vouched for on canvas by the Em- 
peror of Austria and the Shah of Persia ; bronze-skinned 
men who were like living statues ; copper-helmeted 
divers, that had brought up from the bottom of the 
ocean a monstrous devil-fish with a thousand arms. 

But the entertainment that best served to make him 
forget the horrible incidents of the day that had just 
passed — the affair which did most to bring him into 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 


149 


harmony with the general atmosphere of gayety — was 
the performance given outside a certain booth to ad- 
vertise a variety show. He watched the droll fellow 
who worked the weather-beaten, grinning dummy, that 
grinned enough without his aid. He saw the silly, 
much applauded clowns, clad like court fools in pur- 
ple vests, short breeches, and striped stockings. The 



strong men, proud of their swelling biceps and their 
sinewy, rugged legs, wore, on the contrary, only 
trunks of faded pink, which had plainly been none too 
often to the wash. And then young girls, dressed 
like fairies, jumped lightly in the air under the magic 
rays of the electric light, danced on a rope, or simply 
skipped about and glittered like fire-flies as they set 
a-quiver the gauze of their flimsy skirts. 



150 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

Midnight came, and the lamps were extinguished. 
The roller-coasters no longer inspired shrieks of terror. 
The hubbub died away. Only from time to time a 
maddened cornet sought to draw in the few loiterers. 

The hucksters, half 
hidden behind their 
little stands of gim- 
cracks and ginger- 
bread pigs (each 
carefully named), 
shiveringly wrapped 
themselves in their 
thick coats, and 
with half-sleepy, half- 
pathetic glances so- 
licited the patronage 
of departing visitors. 
In the larger booths, 
which presented so 
gloomy an aspect to 
the outsider, the exhibitions terminated in a splendor 
of colored lights that flashed through the chinks and 
crannies of the enclosure. The satiated and weary 
crowd melted away in little groups into the darkness. 

Jack had no inclination to return again to the city ; 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 


I5I 

for he felt that he no longer had any refuge there, and 
that his place henceforth was with these wandering 
showmen. He felt sure that if he were to lodge out- 
of-doors he could find no better place than this, where 
a single square tent served as a shelter for a whole 
family. He slipped in between two booths, and 
stretched his tired body on the ground. 



had gone through, weariness is so beneficent a nurse 
that neither remorse nor anguish can long keep one 
awake, especially if one has got no further on in life 
than fifteen years. That benignant sleep, which pitying 
nature grants even to the unjust, weighed heavily on 
Jack’s eyelids ; and the lad slumbered soundly. The 
dream angel was kind to him, too, and filled this first 
night of his vagrancy with radiant falsehoods. 


152 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


When he awoke at dawn, he rubbed his eyes in 
surprise, and asked himself where he was, astonished at 
not finding himself in bed in the room over the work- 
shop with his comrades. Then consciousness of the 
cruel reality arose within him, and he shivered to the 
very marrow of his bones. 

‘Wes,” he said, “yes; I am a thief.” A mon- 
strous interrogation point seemed to rise before him. 
“ I am a thief,” he repeated ; “ what’s to become of 
me ” 

He sat there, with folded arms and bent head, his 
glance riveted upon the ground, meditating as he had 
never meditated before. Experience may, in a single 
night, transform a child into a man. He felt a touch 
upon his shoulder and shuddered. One shudders often 
when conscience is uneasy. 

“I’m taken,” he said to himself; not daring to turn 
for fear of seeing a policeman’s helmet. 

But he was not taken ; instead of a policeman’s 
warning, the touch upon his shoulder was that of a lad 
of about his own age. 

“ Don’t you know me } ” 

“No,” said Jack. 

“ Why, see here. I’m Ernest of the Ambigu. Don’t 
you remember.^ We were in the play together.” 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 


153 


‘<Ah, yes,” said Jack, rejoiced to meet with some- 
body he knew. ‘‘Yes; what a time that was!” 

“ What are you doing here } ” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ Why are you here, at the fair, at this time of day } 
Are you out of work } ” 

“Yes; I couldn’t agree with the boss; I handed in 
my resignation ; and here I am.” 

“Well, what now.? You’ll have to eat.” 

“ Had something to eat yesterday.” 

“ What about to-day .? ” 

“ Perhaps I’ll go without to-day.” 

“ And to-morrow .? ” 

“ Perhaps to-morrow will be like to-day.” 

“ Well, you’ll get fat if you go on that way.” 

“ Sure ; but if I find anything to eat. I’ll eat it fast 
enough.” 

“You can’t get anything to eat unless you work.” 

“Oh, I’ll work.” 

“ What at .? ” 

“ Don’t know. What do you do .? ” 

“Oh, I,” responded Ernest, — “I’m one of the pre- 
miers in Ribetti’s troupe. I have a splendid part in 
‘The Caves of Delhi; or. Conscience and Treason,’ — a 
grand spectacular drama in twenty-six tableaux, with a 


154 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


big finale, Bengal lights, and stage thunder ; and the 
whole business only lasts fifteen minutes.” 

“Well, you have got a soft thing ! ” 

Ernest did not deny the accusation. With a swagger 
he said, “ Ah, my dear fellow, when one has talent, 
you know ! You see, Tve found my vocation. I was 
born an artist.” 

“ Like me,” responded Jack. 

Ernest was vexed to think that another should ven- 
ture to compare himself with him. He smiled ironi- 
cally. Ernest’s irony was something wonderful. 

“ Can’t you get me a place with your troupe } ” asked 
Jack. 

Ernest was not sorry to have a chance to take him 
down a little. “ What could you do } Supe } We’ve 
got all we can ’handle now ; there are seven in the 
assaulting army.” 

“ One more wouldn’t make much difference in an 
army. What do you say } ” 

“ No use. We don’t run things like the Paris 
theatres. The accessories count for very little ; all 
depends on the actors. But I’ve thought of something. 
How would you like to do the savage ? You say you’re 
hungry ? ” 

“Yes; I have got something of an appetite.” 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 


155 



That would give you a good chance to eat all you 
wanted. They’d be pitching fodder at you all day.” 

Savage ventured Jack. I don’t know that that 
is exactly in my line.” 

You’ll pick it up fast 
enough. Why, plague take it, 
the other day some one had to 
do the educated seal. It was 
done all right ; only, of course, 
between ourselves, we ought 
tt) have had a negro. But these 
country people will swallow 
anything. If he wasn’t black, 
it was easy enough 
to make him so.” 

Jack, poor chap, 
who had not been al- 
together successful as 
a representative of 
civilization, consented 
to take the part of the savage, and to do it as well 
as he could. 

I’ll be glad to try it,” he said ; for he was very 
hungry. 


Come on, then. 


156 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

Ernest guided his companion to the booth of which 
he had spoken. It was one of the last in the line. At 
this early hour of the morning it was closed. While 
Ernest went to find out if old Grigou, the proprietor, 
was out of bed, Jack was at liberty to study the soiled 
and worn canvas walls of the structure, on which a 

painter, with very 
elementary ideas 
as to art, had un- 
dertaken to repre- 
sent, in a primitive 
way, some hint of 
the attractions 
within. 

First, at the right 
the spectator, was 
outline of a colossal 
figure, liberally provided 
with jewels on neck and arms, and wearing diamonds 
as big as eggs in her hair. This, it appeared, was a 
portrait of that famous Circassian beauty, the impos- 
ing Nina, whose amplitude of charm had astonished 
all the courts of all the sovereigns of Europe. The 
central and largest panel depicted a band of Indian 
or African savages — the painter was a little uncer- 



AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 


157 


tain in his ethnology — in the act of attacking an 
explorer. The European defended himself courage- 
ously against his enemies who had the rudeness to 
be scalping him alive. In the background, one might 
see naked children of the wilds dancing madly around 
a spluttering roast ; the roast was a second white ex- 
plorer, done just to a turn. 

The third and left-hand panel undoubtedly repre- 
sented something ; but with the best intention in the 
world it was impossible for one to determine exactly 
what. 

The booth was lit up at night with the ruddy, smoky 
glare of a lot of dirty lamps, suspended from an iron 
bar. 

Like the snail, the owner of this establishment car- 
ried his house about with him. Old Grigou slept in 
a wagon which looked like a little house on wheels, 
and which for that reason was called a house-wagon. 
Ernest climbed up the steps which gave access to this 
vehicle, and tapped on the glass of a tiny window. 

Who’s there } ” demanded a deep, husky voice. 

Come out and have a drop,” said Ernest. That 
was his method of establishing friendly relations. He 
waited a few minutes, and the door swung outwards 
and revealed a rough-looking man, with bare feet thrust 


158 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 



into ragged slippers, with tattered trousers tied up with 
string, no shirt, and a sort of sack coat of indefinable 
color, which had perhaps possessed a collar and buttons 
in its youth, but which now retained not the least trace 

of these departed glories. 
Old Grigou was quite gray ; 
and his abundant hair, never 
very carefully combed even 
during the day, was much less 

I 

I so at this ungracious hour. 

] 

I His face, deeply tanned, and 

i - 

j crossed and recrossed with 

I numberless wrinkles, had the 

1^ tint of a well-baked brick. 

As for his nose, which 
thrust itself prominently 
beyond the surrounding 
features, it had a shade 
resembling scarlet turning 
on the violet, somewhat after the appearance of a 
ripe tomato. 

What’s up ? ” he grumbled. You pay the score ? ” 
Of course,” responded Ernest. 

The old fellow smacked his lips with delight ; and a 
flash of intelligence shot forth from his little gray, rat- 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 


159 


like and blinking eyes, that seemed to shrink from the 
light. 

All right ; Fm with you. Where shall we go } ” 
Jack stood at a distance, examining with disgust the 
man whom destiny had appointed to become his new 
master. 

Well,” said the 
man, ‘‘ let’s be get- 
ting along. Fve got 
a big thirst on me 
this morning.” It 
was evidently no rare 
thing for old Grigou 
to be thirsty. 

Same here,” said 
a tipsy voice from' 
the doorway; ‘Mon’t 
you count me in ? ” 

Why, of course, 
old girl,” said Ernest ; come on ! It’s my treat.” 

A dame of considerable importance, judging from 
her size, — perhaps she was the heroine of the painted 
sign, — now made her appearance, the whole house- 
wagon shaking at her every movement, while the steps 
groaned under her weight as she made her way to the 



i6o 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


ground. Her hair hung upon her shoulders, her arms 
rested akimbo on her hips, her chin was adorned with 
an incipient beard. . Jack noticed that when she had 
need of a handkerchief she got along very comfortably 
by using the back of her hand. 

Here, jeweller’s boy, give over your staring, and 
come here and let’s have a look at you, if you really 
want a place.” 

The affair was arranged in front of the zinc counter 
of a neighboring wine-shop. 

‘‘This is the chap you want to do the savage,” said 
Ernest. “ He’s bright ; he’s played with me ; I know 
him well. You can depend on him.” 

Old Grigou looked him over with a suspicious eye. 
The woman glanced at his clothes, for he was neatly 
dressed, and thought to herself that, as an applicant 
for such a place, he was amazingly got up. 

“ So you want to do the savage } ” said old Grigou. 

“ Yes,” said Jack ; “ I’d like it first rate.” 

“ Well, it’s not a very swell part, you understand ; 
you’ll have to take it as it comes.” 

“I understand that, sir.” 

“You can call me boss. I’m the boss, and missus, 
here, she’s the bossess.” 

“Yes, boss.” 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. l6l 

^^Are you down on your luck, that you want to do 
the savage?” 

Well, you see, boss, my father and mother are 
dead, and I haven’t any place.” 

‘‘ Somebody looks after you evidently ; you’re rigged 
up like a prince.” 

‘‘Yes; at Mr. Dupont’s they — but I left there” — 

“There, there! Never mind. You needn’t tell 
your story ; it’s all the same to me.” 

“ Why, yes, it’s all the same to us,” chimed in the 
woman. 

“ What are you bringing your tongue in for ? ” 
said Grigou ; “keep quiet, or I’ll cuff your ears for 
you.” 

“Charming family,” thought Jack; “what a delight- 
ful home I shall have ! ” 

The showman went on : “ As you recommend him, 
Ernest, I’ll hire him. We’ll call it settled, then. You’ll 
begin at once. Bestir yourself. This is Sunday, and 
a fine day ; there’ll be a crowd. We don’t have any 
loafing here when business is on.” 

Jack left his companion with an assumed air of sat- 
isfaction. “Oh, it’s easy enough,” said he. “And then 
this sort of life will suit me.” 

When he got back to the van he found that Ma’am 


i 62 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


Grigou had lighted a fire under a big kettle, and was 
picking out some potatoes. 

‘^That’s encouraging,” he said to himself ; ^‘they feed 
themselves, it seems ; and judging by the size of the 
cook we ought not to be skimped on our rations.” 

ril show you where you’re to sleep,” said the boss. 
He took the lad inside. It was dark and close. He 
pointed to a big box. In there.” 

In there .^” repeated Jack dumfounded. But it’s 
too small. I couldn’t get in there. My legs would be 
outside.” 

‘Hf you like, we can cut ’em off.” 

Jack made no reply to this. '' He’d be quite capable 
of cutting them off,” he thought ; '' I’d better be con- 
tented with the box.” 

‘‘Follow me,” said the showman roughly, “and I’ll 
show you what you are to do.” 

He took him to what is called the “saloon,” and 
commanded him to disrobe. Jack took off his blouse 
and his vest ; then he paused. The showman signified 
that he was to remove his shoes and stockings and his 
breeches. Jack stood in his shirt. 

“ I told you to undress,” said the showman. 

“Well, I have.” 

“ Not as long as you keep your shirt on.” 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR, 


163 


‘‘ What, must I take my shirt off too ? ” 

Did you ever hear of a savage that wore any ? ” 

It was impossible to reply to that argument. Jack 
obeyed. He asked himself if by any chance they were 
going to show him in that guise to the public. The 
showman held out a pair of short, black drawers. 




^ s: 

Put those on.” 

This done, old Grigou led the 
boy into the light, and smeared 
him all over — body, arms, legs, 
and face — with some sort of 
sticky paste. Jack began to be alarmed, and said to 
himself, Oh, dear ! What’ll he do next ? ” 

When the paste had been applied to the satisfaction 
of old Grigou, he called to his wife for ‘‘the bag.” 
She brought the bag, and dropped it at the , feet of the 
bewildered Jack. The bag was filled with feathers. 
Old Grigou emptied its contents on the ground. This 
done, he said, — 


164 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


Now get down and roll.’' 

Jack rolled. The feathers flew about like moths, 
and stuck fast to his body. When Jack got up he 
looked very much like a feather duster. Old Grigou 
then fastened around his body a sort of short skirt 
made of long, thick feathers. 



But this was not all ; the finishing touches were yet 
to be applied. With grease paint, old Grigou smeared 
over those portions of arms, legs, and face where the 
feathers had not caught. Then he took a curly black 
wig, surmounted by three ostrich plumes, and put it 
on his head, and adorned his ears and nose with large 
rings, which Jack could remove and replace at pleas- 
ure. The transformation completed, the lad was con- 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 


165 


ducted to a looking-glass. ‘‘There!’' Jack had some 
difficulty in realizing that the figure he saw reflected 
there was his own. 

“ That can’t be me,” said he ; “ it’s somebody else. 



I 

The showman was greatly flattered by Jack’s art- 
lessness. It proved that the make-up was thoroughly 
artistic. When Jack was finally convinced that it was 
his own reflection that he saw, his spirits rose at a 
bound. 

“There’s one comfort about it, after all,” he said. 
“ Nobody can possibly recognize me.” 

Old Grigou called his wife, that she might admire 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 



1 66 


his new savage, recently arrived from the isles of the 
ocean. She said with great simplicity, — 

‘‘When you can make savages as good as that, 
it’s not worth while trying to get real ones, for 
the real ones don’t begin to look nearly as savage.” 

Old Grigou rubbed his 
hands. It was clear that 
success had crowned his 
efforts. “ Now for a re- 
hearsal,” he said. “Take 
off that vest ” (Jack had 
begun to dress himself 
again). “ What’s your 
name ? ” 

“Jack.” 

“Jack nothing! 
Your name’s Pipi- 
rikiki ; you came 
from one of the 
islands of the Southern Ocean ; you were captured by 
a company of daring explorers ; you are a cannibal, 
and you eat white flesh with voracity ; in default 
of your favorite diet, you content yourself with un- 
cooked food. That’s your place. You fasten yourself 
to that chain. The audience comes in. You grind 



AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR, 1 6 / 

your teeth ; you roll your eyes ; you act as if you were 
going to eat the whole crowd. I calm you down, and 
order you to dance one of your native dances. Then 
you dance, like this ” (the showman 
danced), uttering frightful cries ” 

(the showman uttered frightful 
cries). Now try it.” 

Jack tried it. He had the ideas 
all right, but he was too mild ; he 
lacked ferocity. 

See here,” 
said the show- 
man; ‘‘just 
imagine that ‘ 

f 

you see vic- 
tuals before 
you, and that 
you’re dying of 
hunger.” 

“Oh, yes,” 

said Jack ; “ I can easily imagine that ! ” He tried 
again. 

“That’s better,” said the boss ; “here, catch ! ” He 
threw a piece of bloody meat. 

“ There, gnaw that ; but be careful not to eat it. 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 



Are you my savage, or are you not ? ” 

With a sinking heart Jack submitted. Oh, how hard 
it was ! Tears came into his eyes. 

‘‘ Now, look here,” said old Grigou ; '' don’t you go 
to snivelling. I sent the last one away because he 
blubbered. When the tears run down your cheek. 


You must make believe, for that piece will have to last 
all day.” 

‘‘What! Put that nasty thing in my mouth.?” 
exclaimed Jack, with an air of profound disgust. The 
boss lifted his stick. 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 1 69 

they wash off the paint, and the people can see the 
white streaks.” 

In spite of this warning, Jack was on the point of 
bursting into tears ; he couldn’t keep back the sobs ; 
but, fortunately. Ma’am Grigou came at that moment, 
and called him to breakfast. The prospect of assua- 
ging his hunger consoled him. He saw the table all set 
out of doors ; but to his great surprise there were only 
two plates, — one for old Grigou, the other for his wife. 
It seemed that they didn’t want him to show himself 
in his diguise, and wanted him to eat inside the van. 
They brought him his meagre portion. Jack sighed. 

‘‘This isn’t quite equal,” he thought, “to Mother 
Bonnet’s savory stews.” 

But he was hungry, — so hungry that he ate with a 
relish what at another time he would have been 
scarcely able to swallow. He ate abstractedly, with his 
nose to his plate, and reaching out for his bread found 
that it had disappeared ; and yet he felt very sure that 
he had not eaten it. He looked all around but could 
not find it. While he was looking for the bread, the 
food on his plate also vanished. 

“Oh, this is too much!” he cried; “there must be 
a thief here I ” 

His words came echoing back to him, and he flushed 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


170 

beneath his paint. Yes ; there was a thief in the van, 
Jack knew that only too well. 

He was still puzzling over the disappearance of his 
breakfast, when from behind a large curtain he heard a 



snuffling sound. He turned and looked. It was Zany, 
the monkey. Zany was eating Jack’s bread and meat, 
and regarded this method of making acquaintance with 
the new-comer as a great joke. There would have 
been an exchange of hostilities if old Grigou had not 
appeared, and given orders for the show to begin. 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. I /I 

Jack was sent behind the scenes and told to wait for 

his cue. It was dark and close in there ; and he seated 

0 

himself on a stool, waiting for the word from the boss 
which was to summon him forth before the eyes of the 
astonished audience. Ah, you may be sure. Jack was 
not enjoying himself ; but in the course of his reflec- 
tions he did not fail to realize fully the bitter import of 
his experience. Seated there, alone with his conscience, 
he could perceive a meaning which had escaped him in 
the incidents of his past life ; and more than once the 
eternal cry of erring humanity was on his lips : Oh, 

if I had only known ! ” 

When his mind was weary of self-accusation, he con- 
fronted his present situation ; and his heart was filled 
with deep regret. He longed for the workshop, back 
in Moon Street ; the wholesome atmosphere of probity 
and candor ; the regular life ; the settled tasks ; Mother 
Bonnet’s kindness ; the companionship of John and 
Johnnie ; even the brusque good will of Mr. Griffin. 

He longed, too, for Bisquine. Poor Bisquine ! If 
only she were there, she would console him. She would 
look at him with her great, loving, truthful eyes ; she 
would sleep at his feet ; she would cover him with ca- 
resses ; and as she licked his hands would try to say, 
^‘You know I am your little friend, who will love you 


1/2 


THE THREE APPRENTICES 


always, whatever you may do, for you saved me when I 
was hurt and miserable; and kindness, even if only 
shown to dogs, is something that in this world is never 
lost ! ” 

But not even Bisquine had followed the wanderer. 
He was alone upon the earth, without even a dog to call 
his friend, and was himself like a dog without friends. 
He dreaded the call to go on the stage. One may be 
very well disguised, but there’s not much fun in playing 
the savage for the first time before a crowd of people. 

Through the peek-hole. Jack saw that the booth had 
been opened, and that the audience was gathering. 
He gazed in fascination. The crowd pressed close 
against the railing, — a noisy expanse of grinning heads, 
with open mouths, eager eyes, and alert ears. The 
small boys in the foreground elbowed one another, and 
grabbed each other by the neck. Half-grown girls 
lifted younger children above the level of the crowd, 
that they might see what was going on ; and in their 
amazement at the scene these little ones even forgot to 
suck their thumbs. It was a miscellaneous assemblage, 
made up of men in uniform and men in black coats, 
workmen in their blouses, middle-class citizens out for 
a holiday, — people of all sorts and conditions, a medley 
of types, squeezed close together in seried ranks, only 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 


173 



their heads showing, like a vast array of sculptured and 
hilarious vegetables. Old Grigou began his address : — 
‘‘ Ladies and gentlemen, we have within here a 
specimen very well worth his weight in gold. He’s 
a very dangerous native from the countries of the 
Southern Ocean. 


He was captured 
by a band of 
French soldiers ” 

(here old Grigou 
raised his hat). 

''He was brought 
to France ; and be- 
fore they sent him 
on his way to his 
final destination, of 
which I shall keep 
the secret carefully, 
he was engaged by 
me, and is now devotedly attached to my service. 
He’s a cannibal of the worst kind, and he’ll eat a raw 
chicken at a gulp. They said to me: 'You’ll find it 
cheaper to kill him than to try to feed him ! ’ Kill him 1 
What did they take me for, ladies and gentlemen } Fm 
no savage, — not I. I’ve fed him, and brought him up ; 


174 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


but you may believe it has cost me a pretty penny to 
do so. Under my supervision he will now have the 
honor of executing before you one of the native dances 
of his own country, and of chanting in his native jar- 
gon a sentimental ballad. You will also be permitted 
to witness his feeding ; but I do not give him human 
flesh, for that is forbidden by the authorities, for whom I 
have the greatest respect” (he once more lifted his hat). 

How is it,” you will ask me, that you show for 
the benefit of the public a freak that has not its like 
in any civilized land 1 Ladies and gentlemen, this 
scientific, entertaining, geographical, and unique spec- 
tacle has been devised for the purpose of instructing 
and amusing the whole people. Rich and poor can 
profit by it. Formerly I always charged two francs 
admission, and I refused to let in anybody for less. 
To-day I shall make an exception, and you will all be 
welcome. I shall not charge twenty sous, ladies and 
gentlemen, or even ten sous ; it will be six sous for 
the best places, and three sous for the others. Step 
up and get your tickets. The show is about to begin. 
You don’t have to pay until you go out, and not then 
if you ain’t satisfied. Children half price, and also all 
military gentlemen, except marshals of PTance, who 
always pay full rates.” 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 


175 


A drum rolled furiously. Perpetuity, — that was 
Ma’am Grigou’s given name, — beat on a gong. Bang ! 
Bang ! Bang ! The showman set a bell swinging. 
Never did such a horrible racket assail the human ear; 



but this diabolical symphony attracted the loiterers to 
the booth, which was soon filled. Every place was 
taken. The difference between the first places and the 
second was that those who took first places had some- 
thing or other to sit on, while those who took second 
had nothing at all. 


1/6 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


Attention ! We are going to begin/' 

Old Grigou, armed with a whip and with a stern 
and formidable air, called out : ‘‘ Here, Pipirikiki ! " 
A noise of chains was heard, and the ferocious exile 
from the Southern Ocean leaped upon the stage, amid 
a great sensation. 



''Oh, what a monster!” exclaimed a pretty young 
girl. 

"Let’s go away, mamma,” said a little boy; "I’m 
afraid.” 

Jack heard these speeches, and thought to himself, — 

"What have I come to Young ladies call me a 
monster, and little boys are afraid of me ! ” 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR, 


177 


'' Dance ! ” shouted old Grigou. 

And Jack danced, without manner or method, dizzy 
at so many turnings about, and with closed eyes, — a 


fantastic, mad, impos- 
‘‘ Sing ! commanded 
Jack added to his 
formance a chant, which 
more than an alphabetical 
to music, — Ba, la, bi, 
lu, le, tra, la, la ! ” 

Old Grigou was very 


sible dance, 
his master, 
saltatory per- 
was nothing 
medley put 
ma, ma, 



well satisfied with his savage. He did the part well ; 
and the showman had never had any one so docile, 
and who so readily understood the part at the first 
trial. Evidently Jack had found his vocation. He 


1/8 ' THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

displayed astonishing ferocity when it came to gnaw- 
ing the piece of raw meat. 

Look, ladies and gentleman ! How’s that for an 
appetite } ” 

The little boy who was afraid, now hid behind his 
mamma’s skirts and peeped with one eye, all in a 
tremble. 

Jack suddenly uttered a cry, and lifted his hand to 
his mouth. He writhed like a person undergoing 
great agony. The showman thought that these gri- 
maces were assumed, and was overjoyed. But the sav- 
age, forgetting his part, entered into explanations, in 
language perfectly intelligible to his auditors, - — Oh 
dear! Oh! Oh! I’ve bit my tongue — Oh, how it 
hurts ! ” 

The astounded audience burst into shouts of laughter. 

Oh, he’s a sweet savage, he is ! ” said one of the 
spectators. ''That’s the biggest fake out!” 

Old Grigou was furious, but did not lose his presence 
of mind. He saved the day. 

" You needn’t be surprised to hear him speak our 
language,” said the showman. " I’ve leai^ited him.” 

But the audience continued to laugh. They had 
been told at the door that they needn’t pay till they 
went out, and not then if they weren’t satisfied. 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 1 79 

‘/This show doesn’t suit me,” said one; “I sha’n’t 
pay.” 

Disturbance and various disputes followed, and the 
receipts fell off considerably. When the booth was 
empty, old Grigou, armed with a strap, went up to his 
savage. “ So you bit your tongue, did you, you scally- 
wag! ril teach you!” 

And he taught him, — 
taught him not to bite 
his tongue another time. 

“ I’ll cut your tongue 
out if you play that 
trick again. You talk 
savage talk here.” 

“ Ba, be, bi, — 
sa, se, si, — ki, ka, 
ko,” responded 
poor Jack, sum- 
moning up a pitiful smile. 

“ I see you understand me ; don’t forget.” 

They gave the second exhibition. Jack came on, as 
he had come on before, danced the same dance, sang 
the same song, and gnawed the same piece of meat ; 
but if he bit his tongue this time he omitted to say 
anything about it. 



l8o THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

When, by eleven o’clock, the great hinged screen 
was swung over from the top of the booth and the last 
lamp had expired in malodorous despair, Jack had so 
often appeared before an intelligent and distinguished 
audience, that he began to feel rather uncertain as to 
whether or no he was not actually the savage they took 
him for. 

And when he finally went to bed in the kennel that 
had been set aside for him, his sleep was broken ; and 
when he slept he dreamed that he had become a savage 
for good and all. He saw himself roaming through 
forests that looked like the forest painted on old Gri- 
gou’s sign ; he was with his tribe, and they were eating 
a white person. Horror of horrors, the white person 
they were eating was himself ! He awoke with a start, 
his body covered with perspiration, although he had 
nothing over him but a thin ragged blanket. 

'‘Nonsense,” he said to himself, "it was nothing but 
a nightmare. I’m nothing but a play savage, — a sav- 
age to laugh at.” And, in the darkness and silence, 
the savage, who was a savage to laugh at, sobbed and 
sobbed and sobbed. 

"For seven days, that seemed like seven years or 
seven centuries. Jack led this deplorable existence. 
He had thought more than once of running away. But 
how } And whither ? 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. l8l 

Run away ? He was covered with feathers, and 
daubed with black paint. When the police saw him 
they wouldn’t be long in taking him into custody and 
to the station-house. There they would ask his name, 
and where he lived. He would be obliged to say, — 
My name’s Jack. I was apprentice at Mr. Dupont’s, 
the jeweller’s. I left there, because — well, because I 
stole.” When you tell the police that you have been 
stealing, they don’t let you go in a hurry. They 
wouldn’t let him go. 

In old Grigou’s booth, he was at any rate safe from ' 
pursuit. Who would ever think of looking for him 
there } But in hours of discouragement, when Zany 
played tricks on him, when he was hungry and had 
nothing to eat, or when the boss cuffed him, he asked 
himself if a prison could, after all, be any worse than 
this. 

Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! ” he would groan ; ‘‘ I’m being 
cruelly punished.” And then he would seem to hear 
a voice from some invisible source replying, No 
more so than you deserve. Jack.” 

Then he bowed his head ; or in another mood, irft 
the spirit of revolt was not yet dead within him, he 
burned with rage. He refused to yield, and cried* 
aloud, “ I won’t give in ! I won’t give in ! ” The 


1 82 THE THREE APPRENTICES, 

Struggle between good and evil still went on within 
him ; and too often, alas, it was not the good that 
triumphed. 

Lucifer was old Grigou’s neighbor. Lucifer, at the 
gingerbread fair, was a very good sort of man, who had 



gone through a great many adventures before he came 
to take charge of the Inferno. The Inferno was in 
Lucifer’s booth. Garbed in red, bearded and horned, 
he explained to all comers where their sins, if they did 
not have a care, would eventually bring them. He 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR, 1 83 

might have added that the way thither is along many 
an apparently harmless and unsuspected road. 

Lucifer had puppets to represent men, and the rep- 
resentation was a very good one. Men or puppets, it 
amounts very much to the same thing. Later on 
you will realize this. Any spectacle is edifying that 
teaches us to examine ourselves, even though we laugh 



as we learn. A moral that comes to us in attractive 
guise finds its own way to our hearts. Think of this, 
dear reader, and you will understand what I am trying 
to do in writing this book. 

On this particular morning, Lucifei had put off his 
splendid costume, and, with no more horns than you or 
I have, was smoking his pipe, and presiding at the toilet 
of his puppets. He put the seven cardinal sins to 


184 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

rights, adding a touch of scarlet to Pride, a little white 
to the hateful pallor of Envy, touched up the lips of 
Gluttony, closed the eyes of Sloth, and lighted a flame 
in the eyes of Anger ; he also sharpened the nails of 
Avarice, brightened up the caldron wherein the wicked 
were a-stewing, and regilded the pitchfork with which 
the victims of wrath were collected. The legion of 
little imps, who were the cooks of this infernal kitchen, 
he rejuvenated with a bright coat of green, and he saw 
that their forked tails and cloven feet were in proper 
condition. 

There was not in the whole fair a more peaceful man 
than Lucifer, or Old Scratch ” as he was familiarly 
called, on account of his occupation. He was highly 
esteemed by his associates, who were, as a rule, very 
good sort of people, and not in the least the hardened 
outlaws you might take them for. Their ways, it is 
true, are different from ours ; they lead a wandering 
life, and their caravans often rest in the shade of the 
woods, and little children are frightened when they see 
them go by with their houses on wheels. It is only 
custom, however, that separates them from the rest of 
mankind. In fact, there are no people condemned to 
a hard and cheerless life who more truly merit our 
esteem and sympathy. 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 1 85 

There are no foolish trades,” says the proverb; 
there are only foolish people.” A father may very 
well decide that, among the many occupations to be 
chosen, he would not select that of mountebank for his 
son. Ordinarily — Jack is a good example — people 
adopt this calling only through force of circumstances ; 
but, such as it is, it responds to a certain need. When 
the play begins, we ar,e very well content to see the 
strolling actors come upon the mimic stage, and to 
enjoy the sport, the pleasure, and the distraction that 
they afford us. We only pass our condemnation upon 
the real existence of these people ; and then only be- 
cause their way of living is so different from ours. 

Old Grigou did not stand very high in the estimation 
of his companions, because of his rough manners, his 
fondness for drink, and his severity towards his depen- 
dents. Between him and Lucifer no love was lost. How 
happened it that on this particular day they actually 
got into a quarrel } The origin of the dispute has never 
been clearly determined. All that is known is that 
Lucifer, engaged in fixing up Hope, — one of the three 
theological graces, — had hung up her wardrobe on a 
cord stretched from one tree to another ; the wardrobe 
consisted of a sky-blue gown of crepon, and a piece of 
gilt stuff which she wore on her head like a diadem. 


1 86 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

‘‘Silly business,” said old Grigou, “a man of your 
age playing with dolls ! ” 

“ Sneer if you like, neighbor,” responded Lucifer ; 
“ Lm not playing with dolls. Lm arranging my little 
company for this evening’s show. My puppets earn my 
bread for me as your savages do yours for you. Look 
out ! You almost stepped on Charity, and she’s rather 
a frail sort of creature.” 

“ You ought to leave that sort of thing to nurse-girls. 
Your fingers are too clumsy to swaddle kids ! ” 

“ That needn’t worry you any. It’s my business, not 
yours. There’s one thing sure, Grigou ; my wooden 
puppets are decent sort of people. I know where they 
come from. I carved them myself from the trunk of a 
pear-tree. Perhaps you wouldn’t find it so easy to give 
the home address of the poor lads you paste over with 
glue and feathers and hold as prisoners.” 

“ They have their liberty.” 

“Yes, liberty. Tell that to those who will believe 
you. Do you think I don’t know what’s going on 
around here } But, there, thank Heaven, I’m not an 
informant ; otherwise the commissary of police might 
make you a call, at my suggestion, and ask you why, 
night and day, people hear the sobs of an unhappy 
child that you have transformed into a black man. Do 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 


187 


you think that I don’t see, and that I can’t hear ? 
There’s something wrong. Take care. I may be too 
big to play with dolls, but I’m big enough to have my 
eyes open.” 

''That’s all right,” said old Grigou, calming down a 
little. " That’s all right. I amuse the crowd, and that 
makes you mad. I don’t pretend to be a saint ; but 
there’s nothing very bad that goes on around my 
place.” 

Lucifer was very intent with fixing his puppets, and 
did not lift his head or make any response. His silence 
irritated the exploiter of savages, who had begun to 
get disturbed over certain speeches that had come to 
his ears. It would be very easy to get him into trouble. 
This lad he had got into his power came from he knew 
not where, and must have somebody who was interested 
in him ; and if the police got hold of the affair, Grigou 
knew that he might be punished for abduction. What 
a fool he had been, to make fun of his neighbor’s 
puppets ! He tried to atone for any bad effect his 
words might have had. 

" Let’s be serious now, and go and have a drink.” 

"Thanks,” drawled the master of the Inferno. 
"When you’re young enough to play with dolls, you 
don’t go to the wine-shop.” 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


I88 

Grigou humbled himself still more, and tried to make 
explanations. They ought not to judge him by appear- 
ances. The child was with him of his own free will. 
Why does he cry so much } ” asked Lucifer. 



How do I know } At that age they cry for noth- 
ing. But ril make a bet with you. Til bet he’ll tell 
you himself he came to me of his own free will, and 
that he likes the place.” 

Lucifer got up. I’ll take you,” he said. But you 
mustn’t coach him beforehand. Call him here ; and 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR, 1 89 

when he comes I’ll question him, and we’ll see what 
he says.” 

Old Grigou bit his lips. Oh, ho ! ” said Lucifer 
ironically. You hesitate. Perhaps you don’t dare 
try it } ” 

Old Grigou thought to himself, '‘The boy will 
never reveal the secret of his past life. I shan’t be 
risking anything.” He lifted his hand to his mouth, 
and called out, — 

" Hey there, savage ! ” 

" Here I am, boss.” 

" Come here.” 

Jack made his appearance, a grimy picture of sordid 
misery. Lucifer murmured, " The child does little 
credit to his nurse. Poor lad, poor lad ! ” 

Jack’s heart was touched with the warmth of Luci- 
fer’s compassion. Oh, the worthy man, to speak with 
so much pity of one he did not know! 

"But,” thought Jack, "perhaps it’s because he 
doesn’t know me. If he knew,” — 

" Now, then,” demanded Grigou, " no evasions. 
Speak the truth. Did you come to me of your own 
free will ? Yes, or no } ” 

" Yes.” 

Old Grigou turned toward Lucifer, and made a 


190 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


gesture which signified, ''You see; it’s just as I told 
you.” 

Lucifer asked a question. " It’s not a very amusing 
trade that you’ve taken up. Why do you do it } ” 

Jack came near telling him that it was because he 
had stolen, and wanted to escape the police. He told a 
lie instead. 

" I do it because I like to. I like this life ; I like 
to do the savage.” 

Old Grigou rubbed his hands together with glee. 
" Good enough ; well said ! ” Lucifer eyed the lad 
suspiciously, knowing that there was something behind 
all this. 

"Why is it, then,” he asked, "that you cry so 
much } ” 

" Why do I cry } ” asked Jack. " Why do I cry ? 
But I don’t cry ! ” and he held back the tears that 
were coming into his eyes. 

"I’ve heard you sobbing.” 

" If I cry, it must be without knowing it.” 

"Neighbor,” said Lucifer, "you’re right; and I was 
unjust to suspect you. Let’s say no more about it. 
Go back with your savage, and leave me to my imps of 
darkness. It’s nearly show-time, and I must start the 
fire under the caldron.” And in Jack’s ear he whis- 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 


I9I 

pered, When you have found out why you cry, 
•come and let me know.” " 

Come on, savage,” said old Grigou. Sure enough, 
it’s getting late, and the exhibition must begin. We 
must make ready; and in a hurry too.” 



Perpetuity was waiting outside. '' Lively, you rascal,” 
she said to Jack, taking him by the ear ; '' go and put on 
your wig.” She saw by the way in which old Grigou 
wore his hat that he was out of sorts. 

Something’s gone wrong, Grigou.” 


192 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


^‘Yes; our good neighbor Lucifer, who ought to be 
stewing in his own caldron, has been putting his nose 
into our affairs. We patched 'up the quarrel ; but I 
don’t feel easy about it, all the same. He wants to 
know where Jack came from. It would be bad for us 
if he gave the tip to the police.” 

'' What’s that you say.^ For gracious sake! The 
police ? ” Ma’am Grigou stepped back so suddenly 
that she narrowly missed sitting down in the soup 
kettle. 

Preparations were made as usual for the exhibition ; 
but fortune is an inconstant wench, and all the blan- 
dishments held forth by the showman regarding the 
marvellous captive from the South seas had on this 
occasion no effect upon visitors to the Fair. In vain 
they thumped the tambourine ; in vain they sounded 
the cymbals, — bang! bang! bang! In vain old Grigou 
shouted in stentorian tones, and lowered the price of 
admission to attract the crowd: ''Two sous only for 
the best places, — two sous for everything, — what do 
you think of that } ” 

The audience consisted of only one person, — a quiet- 
mannered gentleman, dressed in black, wearing gloves, 
with a decoration in his buttonhole, who handed over 
his ten centimes, took a seat, and waited. Old Grigou 


AT THE GINGERBREAD FAIR. 


193 


was greatly offended at having so small an audience, 
and offered to give back the money. 

‘‘Go on with the show,” said the gentleman, in so 
imperious a tone that further argument was out of 
the question. 

For the benefit of 
this one spectator. Jack 
went through his impro- 
vised dance and canni- 
balistic exercises. The 
stranger was imperturb- 
able. Who can it be ” 
old Grigou asked him- 
self, puzzled over the 
mystery, and disturbed 
at the neglect of the public. The stranger seemed 
to understand the question that the showman wanted 
to ask, and said, — 

‘‘ I am the commissary of police.” Then he went 
out, after receiving a most profound and respectful 
salute from the proprietor of the establishment. 

The commissary of police ! What had he come 
there for ? Old Grigou was very much perplexed. 



194 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


XVI. 

AWAY TO THE COUNTRY. 

As Jack was’ about to go to his sleeping-place that 
night, old Grigou told him that he was not to make his 
bed in the box, but that he was to sleep in the wagon 
at the feet of the boss and his wife, — a distinguished 
honor for which Jack sought in vain to discover a 
reason. 

They had thrown a bear-skin down on the boards, and 
on that several articles of clothing. ‘‘ There’s your 
bed,” he was told ; lie down.” He went to bed. The 
novelty of the situation suggested unusual thoughts ; and 
he carefully looked about the interior of the house- 
wagon, somewhat impressed with the turkey-red hang- 
ings and their garnishment of tawdry, cream-colored 
lace. A bewildering array of knicknacks attracted his 
attention, and as his glance wandered idly around he 
beheld his own form reflected in a looking-glass. The 
sight overwhelmed him with a passion of self pity. 
^‘To think, only to think,” he said to himself, 'Hhat 


AWAY TO THE COUNTRY, 


195 



I should come to this ! Where is the Jack that I used 
to be ? Can it be that under all this paint and these 
feathers I am the same — just the same ? ” 

He turned away with his face to the wall, and with 
his hands over his eyes. 

Not far away the 
showman and his 
wife were whis- 
pering to one 
another. He 
caught but a 
few words of 
what they said, 
but the phrase he 
heard was terrifying in 
its brief suggestiveness : 

''Yes; but not till he goes 
to sleep.” 

What was it that was going 
to happen ajter he went to sleep? 

What purpose had old Grigou and his wife in bringing 
him into the house-wagon ? As he meditated upon 
these questions, he shrank as from some unforeseen yet 
dreaded destiny ; for experience had taught him that 
surprises, when they came, were not apt to be welcome. 


196 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

‘‘Oh, dear,” sighed Jack ; “how I wish that I could 
get away ! ” 

Get away ? Where to ? And how ? Was there 
anybody to whom he could appeal ? Why, yes ; he 
remembered how kindly their good neighbor, Lucifer, 
had spoken ; what pity he had shown ; how deeply 
moved he had been at Jack’s condition ; and how 
tenderly he had asked the cause of the lad’s tears. 
Jack had lied to him out of fear; but the falsehood 
had been no deceit. He remembered the sentence 
that Lucifer had whispered in his ear : “ When you 
have found out why you cry, come and let me 
know.” 

He resolved upon a course of action. Evidently 
deliverance lay . that way. The friendly words and 
looks of the master of the Inferno had revealed a sym- 
pathetic heart ; and Jack was in great need of finding 
some one in whom he could confide his repentance — 
was that repentance absolute } — for his evil past. 
Yes; the next morning, at dawn, he would slink out 
without being seen, visit the Inferno, — most certainly 
this time a place well paved with good intentions ! — 
and confess himself to Lucifer. He would hold noth- 
ing back ; and when he had told everything, perhaps 
his friend would help him to escape from the worser 


AWAY TO THE COUNTRY, 197 

Inferno of old Grigou’s show, where for a fortnight 
he had been in torment. 

Hope came to him and dazzled his mind with radiant 
fancies. Joy filled his heart, and he was comforted ; 
for he had no doubt whatever that his good neighbor 
would intervene in his behalf. It was a stroke of Provi- 
dence. He could not believe that he was utterly lost as 
long as there was some one interested in his welfare. 
He fell asleep, for the first time since his flight, with his 
fears at rest, and with a cheerful looking forward to the 
morrow. He was convinced that his trials were but 
transitory and that he would again find peace. 

To-morrow,” he muttered softly, to-morrow I 
shall find a friend ! ” 

Weariness rested heavily upon him, and his sleep was 
sound. The hours flew by, — hours of merciful obliv- 
ion, — the hours that bring strength and courage to 
meet the trials of a new day. 

He was awakened by a strange sensation, — the noise 
of a horse’s hoofs striking at regular intervals on hard, 
firm ground. The house- wagon was in motion, and a 
movement of exceptional violence had aroused him from 
his slumber. Day was breaking ; through the narrow 
window he caught glimpses of the fading stars and of 
shadowy foliage flitting by. Old Grigou’s coarse voice. 


igS 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


accompanying the blows of a whip, urged on their lag- 
ging steed, Theodulus. Deception was impossible ; 
they were moving along a road bordered with trees. 
He jumped up, and saw wide fields and stretches of 



woodland. They were, — oh, heaven have mercy upon 
him ! — they were in some unknown region, far out in 
the open country. 

Old Grigou had become alarmed, and had uncere- 
moniously taken leave of the Gingerbread Fair ; he 



AWAY TO THE COUNTRY, 


199 


was flying from the effects of indiscreet disclosures, 
from the threat of interference, from the ordeal of em- 
barrassing interrogatories. 

The unhappy Jack was overwhelmed with anguish. 
He fell back in despair on the shaking floor of the 
wagon. His last hope was gone. Already he must be 
far from the friend upon whose generous intervention 
he had depended. Where now was Lucifer, — kind- 
hearted Lucifer, — to whom he had expected to reveal 
his sorrow and his determination to do better ? 

The van went rumbling inexorably onward, in a direc- 
tion away from that in which Jack had hoped for deliver- 
ance. Where were they ? Where were they going ? 
After all, what did it matter to him ? Wherever they 
were, and wherever they were going. Jack felt that his 
journey was into an unknown future. 

‘^Whoa! ” shouted old Grigou. The wagon stopped. 
The showman appeared at the door, cracking his whip 
loudly. Get up there, savage,” he called ; ‘‘ and be 
lively with you ! ” Seeing the astonishment of the un- 
happy lad, he condescended to make an explanation : 

I thought it would be good for you to get a sniff of 
fresh air. Come out and see what you think of things.” 

Having descended from the wagon. Jack looked about 
him sorrowfully. They were in the wilds. 


200 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


What place do you call this, boss ? ” 

‘‘This is the Hotel of All-Out-Doors, my frisky 
chicken. You can take your ease here, and it won’t 
cost you anything.” 

Jack instinctively looked behind him in the direction 
whence they had come. Paris, no doubt, was off there. 
A stone pillar stood at the side of the road. It bore 
some sort of an inscription. Jack looked carefully, and 
saw an arrow, pointing backwards, and read : “ Paris, 
forty-four kilometres ” (about thirty -three miles). 

“My kind friend,” he thought, “you are very far 
away. I shall never see you again. And I shall never 
see Mr. Griffin, — how good he was, even if he was 
stern! — or John and Johnnie, who were such true 
comrades ; or Mother Bonnet with her sweets ; or 
Mr. Minnet, the teacher, whose lessons might have 
been of so much use to me ; or Bisquine, with her 
merry capers, — my dear, little, faithful, loving friend 
Bisquine ! I’m like one of those old captives tied to 
a chariot ; and I am on my way to places that prob- 
ably John, smart as he was in geography, never heard 
of ; for when you get thirty-three miles from Paris, you 
must be pretty near to the end of the world.” 


THE OD ULUS. 


201 


XVIL 

THEODULUS. 

There was a reason for their halt at Aubergines, — 
that was the name of the region, — rather than continu- 
ing their journey elsewhere ; and this in spite of the 
fact that those who travel as fancy directs are not 
bound by any narrow limitations. That is the charm 
of a wandering life ; the nomad is at home everywhere. 

Old Grigou had chosen a propitious spot. It was far 
from any house ; and that in itself was desirable, since 
he did not, as the result of his recent scare, yearn in 
the least for human society. The scenery was monot- 
onous, for the country was very flat ; but a clump of 
trees made a shady and delightfully attractive camping- 
place. Not far away, a brook babbled in a margin of 
luxuriant grass intermingled with flowers. The pic- 
turesqueness and poetry of the scene had no effect on 
old Grigou ; but the grove gave him the seclusion which 
he sought, and the brook provided an ample supply 
of water for domestic purposes. At the very start, he 


202 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


had settled upon this spot for a temporary abode ; and 
as the fair closed the next day, he had arranged with 
some of the booth owners there to bring the rest of 
his household goods to Aubergines. 

Probably you have at some time seen a group of 
travellers — gypsies or others — camped at the bor- 
ders of the woods. It is a curious spectacle, especially 
when the company is a large one, and suddenly takes 
possession in a country quite unused to such bar- 
baric intrusion. 

They unharnessed Theodulus, who manifested with 
prolonged whinnies of satisfaction his delight at a pros- 
pective diet of green grass. Freed from bridle and 
collar, he thrust his nose up to his eyes in the brook, 
and drank eagerly. He could hardly contain himself 
when he thought of wandering at will over the luxuriant 
fields, where the rich and succulent verdure spread it- 
self out indefinitely beneath his big, round, wondering 
eyes. Picketed with a rope of goodly length, he paced 
sentimentally about his tree, absorbed in equine medita- 
tion ; his alert ears alone indicated his impressibility to 
external influences, for he had nothing to distract him 
but the necessity of switching his tail occasionally to 
drive away the flies that settled on his flanks. 

Jack was quite fond of Theodulus, and sympathized 


THEODULUS. 


203 



with his silent and patient endurance of his unkindly 
fate in forfeiting the privileges of a pampered coach- 
horse, to become the drudge of a mountebank’s cart. 
An unhappy fate truly, which, figuratively speaking, 
does not befall horses alone ! 


Theodulus, in the frisky and capricious days of his 
youth, had known the intoxicating joys of the race- 
course. For several years he cut a figure in racing 
annals, and the newspapers vied with one another in 
glorifying his name, — a name very different from the 
one he bore now, — a foreign name, difficult to pro- 


204 THREE APPRENTICES. 

nounce, and very distinguished. He had received the 
solicitous care that belongs to those who are in the good 
graces of the public. They paid the greatest attention 
to the state of his health. Did he suffer with a slight 
cold How about his teeth, — did they ever ache } 
What could they do for him, if he had a touch of colic } 
His stable was a marble palace. Devoted to his care 
was an army of zealous grooms. 

The day of the races, — what a time that was ! A 

youth, astonishingly small 
and slight, clad in rustling 
silk, clung to his back, 
and, amid the delirious 
acclamations of the crowd, 
he flew three or four 
times about the oval. 
Perhaps a cruel spur now and then tore his flanks, 
but in the zest of action he scarcely noticed it. Then 
afterward, — what caresses, what honeyed flattery ! 
One day he lost his balance, fell, threw his jockey far 
to one side, and dislocated his own knee-joint. They 
kept it in splints until he was able to walk again ; but 
after this accident he always limped a little, and his 
career of glory was ended. 

And so he bade farewell to the races, the cheering 



X 


THEODULUS, 


20 $ 


crowds, the marble stable, and the attentive grooms ; and 
his picture disappeared from the illustrated journals. 
He was sold at auction. A blacking pedler bought 
him, and put him in the shafts. After three years of 
journeyings over the Paris pavements he was exhausted, 
used up, and longed for rest ; but for poor beasts like 
him rest does not come so easily. He became a cab- 
horse, and, scantily fed, made long trips under the con- 
stant urging of the remorseless whip. Under these 
conditions he was often employed to drag people to the 
races at Longchamps and Auteuil. There he saw the 
successors to his glory, — vivacious colts, that acted as 
if they remembered him. What profound pity the old 
equine philosopher must have had for them ! Ah, 
presumptuous youth,” we can fancy him thinking, “ you 
know not what awaits you ! The ingratitude of man 
has made of me a wretched drudge. It may be that 
you will some day come to a like destiny.” But the 
frisky colts paid no attention to such bitter thoughts, 
for they were frenzied with the enthusiastic plaudits 
of the populace. 

As a cab-horse he had become wofully thin. With a 
candle inside of him, he would have served very well 
for a lantern. You could count his bones; he was a 
walking skeleton. Such a wretched carcass, — it was 


2o6 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


enough to make one weep. He tripped and stumbled 
frequently, and at the end of a journey often fell down. 
It was so much trouble to get him up again, that he 
evidently much preferred to stay where he was. To 



those who came to unfasten the traces, he seemed to 
say : Leave me here on the ground ; it is the only 

comfort I have now.” 

His owner was obliged to get rid of so useless a ser- 
vitor. There are, it seems, certain ingenious persons 
who make sausages out of horse-meat. It is not a very 


THEODULUS. 


207 


dainty form of sustenance ; but on the other hand it 
is very cheap. Strange as it may seem, there are peo- 
ple who devour such food willingly, in confirmation of 
the maxim that it’s all the same after you get it down, 
and that he who eats something is happier than he who 
eats nothing at all. A sausage-maker at the horse 
market thought he saw possibilities in the wasted body 



-of Theodulus, and was mentally engaged in figuring 
the results, when old Grigou presented himself. The 
poor beast’s life was saved. Old Grigou, after pro- 
longed and angry bargaining, pulled out twenty francs ; 
and the former winner of fashionable races henceforth 
had the honor of dragging a showman’s cart from Fair 
to Fair. 

Since the newly acquired steed was now to become a 


208 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


family horse, it was necessary that he should have a 
name, so they looked over the Saints’ calendar, and 
decided to name him Theodulus. When they sum- 
moned him to get his feed they called him Theod- 
ulus, and he finally learned to answer to the name. 
Perhaps he remembered the clumsy syllables, — per- 
haps he responded through force of habit. 

After the distressing experiences he had undergone, 
his new existence seemed "quite endurable, especially in 
the country, where the green meadows made him think 
of his earlier and happier days. On the whole, he was 
not starved, and he was passably content with a career 
of humble usefulness. 

Jack had conceived something of an affection for 
Theodulus, and often gave him a bit of bread. Theod- 
ulus manifested considerable gratitude. ‘‘ Is it of me, 
or of the bread that you are fond } ” the savage would 
ask, stroking old Theodulus’s nose. Ah, Jack, such 
questions are indiscreet ! Motives of friendship should 
not be too closely inquired into. 


A STRANGE ANIMAL. 


209 


XVIII. 

A STRANGE ANIMAL. 

Theodulus unharnessed, and the van laid up, they 
had to dispose of Jack. He must not allow himself to 
be seen anywhere except at the exhibitions. Gratui- 
tous publicity would take away all the charm of the 
show, and be ruinous to his reputation. So, day after 
day. Jack remained a prisoner under a tent made of 
sheets fastened to the tree branches. It was not a 
cheerful mode of existence. 

Can’t I go out at all } ” the poor lad asked. 

Never,” responded old Grigou, who was in con- 
tinual fear lest his savage should run away. '' And 
more than that, if you don’t mind me. I’ll tie you up.” 

Tied up or not, it is not surprising that Jack looked 
on the tent as a sort of prison. He had either to sit or 
lie down, for the tent was so low he could not stand 
upright ; and under these conditions it seemed to him 
as if the days would never end. 

Prisoners in jail are a good deal better off,” he 


210 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


said to himself ; ‘‘ they know when they’re going to 
get out.” 

Through a little aperture which he had made in the 
cloth by pulling out some of the threads, he could 
watch the monotonous life that went on about him, — 



Theodulus grazing about the tree and in the open 
air, fortunate beast ; Ma’am Grigou at the brookside, 
washing stockings and handkerchiefs ; and old Grigou 
lying on his back, taking a swig of brandy now and 
then, and smoking like a kitchen chimney. 


A STRANGE ANIMAL. 


211 


The country all about slept in an atmosphere of 
sweet repose. The songs of the birds came softly 
from the distance ; and now and then, very far off, a 
dog barked or a horse neighed. 

Along the road, from time to time, farm wagons 
rolled heavily with their companies of laborers ; and 
sometimes the stage-coach, with its clear-toned bells 
and clattering equipage, rushed quickly by. Through 
his peep-hole Jack saw an old woman tottering under a 



load of brushwood ; it seemed to him that he had seen 
her somewhere before, perhaps in fairy-land, — what 
wonders does one not see in fairy-land } — and she 
looked like an old witch. She was a good old creature, 
nevertheless ; and when she drew near the wayside 
camp, she seemed to scent out evil ; and by way of 
protecting herself from harmful spells, she devoutly 
made the sign of the cross. Peasants coming and 
going from the town betrayed not a little curiosity ; 


212 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


and some of them were bold enough to try to get up 
a conversation with old Grigou. 

What have you got in that cart ? Must be close 
quarters, if you sleep in there ! ” 

Others, more mistrustful, avoided any such familiar- 


ities, and scrutinized the en- 
lent in a very ‘ sus- 
us manner. Their im- 



pressions were evidently 


not favorable ; for they 


pulled one another 
by the sleeve, and 
said, — 


Come along ; 
we don’t know 


j what kind of people 

' they are. We ought 



to think well of our 


neighbors, but ’tis plain 


they are not the same kind of folks that we are.” 

In the minds of these critics, the wayfarers were 
identified with travelling tinkers, about whom a great 
many thrilling stories are told around the fireside, 
and who are accused of many misdeeds, most of them 
imaginary. 


A STRANGE ANIMAL. 


213 


The children who camo that way were very shrewd. 
They were frightened at first, and would not approach 
very near ; but little by little they grew bolder, and spied 
upon the camp with the cunning of so many Indians. 
They watched Ma’am Grigou as she cooked the meals, 
and clustered about the showman, taking flight at a 
threatening gesture from him like a flock of blackbirds, 
and then quickly returning. Theodulus received a fair 
share of their attentions. The little scamps, — what 
would they not have given to have procured admission 
to the van ! They stood on one another’s shoulders to 
get a glimpse of the interior of the vehicle. A house 
on wheels, — who ever heard of the like of that } 

The tent did not, of course, escape inspection. The 
boldest of them made repeated attempts to peep under 
the sheets and find out what was within, for they had 
detected movements indicating that the shelter was in- 
habited. By whom } By what } Old Grigou watched 
them so closely, that for a long while their curiosity was 
not satisfied. One day, however, his vigilance relaxed 
for a few minutes ; and a little fellow, more audacious 
than the rest, took advantage of the opportunity. Lying 
flat on the ground, he lifted the sheet, and pushed his 
head inside. He beheld Jack, and was convulsed with 


terror. 


214 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


A wild beast ! ” he shrieked. Oh, mamma, mamma, 
mamma ! ” 

The cry summoned old Grigou ; and as the portion of 
the lad’s body remaining out of the tent offered admir- 
able facilities for correctional treatment, the showman 
used his big hand quite liberally. It was a trying posi- 
tion for the victim. Should he crawl inside, 
or draw back } In front 
he saw a horrible ob- 
ject ; in the rear he 
was threatened 
with vigorous pun- 
ishment. Fear of 
the wild beast, — in 
other words, of poor 
Jack, — was in the end 
the stronger emotion. 

He disengaged his head, his 
hair actually on end in the extremity of his terror. 

‘‘You rascal!” said old Grigou, seizing him by the 
ear, “ he might have eaten you alive ! ” 

Without waiting to hear more, the youthful scout 
hastened to his companions, and they all ran away as 
fast as their legs could carry them. When they had 
got a long distance, out into the fields, they looked 





A STJ^AJVGE ANIMAL. 


215 


back breathlessly, to see that the strange beast was 
not on their trail ; being reassured as to this, they 
stopped. 

'' What did you see } Oh, tell us ! what did you 
see ” 





Fear led the victim of old Grigou’s wrath to relate 
a fantastic tale. What had he not seen } He was 
still panting from the effect of the spectacle. He saw 
something that looked like a human, but all black, 
and covered with feathers. 


A crow } 


2l6 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

A crow doesn’t have hands, and this had hands.’’ 

'' Did it talk ? ” 

'' I thought it made 
a noise.” 

'' Did it have eyes ” 

‘'Yes, like coals of 
fire.” 

“ Did it move } ” 

“Yes, I thought it 
was coming after me.” 

“ Say, do you 
suppose ’twas the 
devil ” 

“ It might have been.” 

“Or the Old Bogy Man.?” 

“ Maybe so.” 

“Why, he might have eaten you up!” 

“He acted as if he wanted to.” 'f 

Sitting on their heels, and ready to take ‘ 

flight anew at the least alarm, they pointed with their 
fingers, and gasped, as they talked in low tones about 
the awful place which they called “the wild beast’s 



tent. 


BY FERMISSIOiV OF THE MAYOR. 


217 


XIX. 

BY PERMISSION OF THE MAYOR. 

In the neighboring town they were the bearers of 
momentous tidings. They told elaborate stories of 
what had been seen, and spoke of a strange animal 
which one of their number, more imaginative than the 
others, described as ‘'a monkey in the shape of a big 
rooster ! The oldest inhabitant called to mind a 
were-wolf, which had once been the terror of the coun- 
try. The leading men of the place, although putting 
little faith in the children’s stories, suspected there was 
something which needed investigation ; so they deter- 
mined to bring the matter to the attention of the 
mayor, who at that moment, in his private capacity 
as a farmer, was just returning from the fields. The 
mayor decided upon a careful inquiry ; and they were 
about to visit the encampment, when old Grigou, his 
shabby hat in his hand, and his breath exhaling the 
odor of alcohol, humbly presented himself. 

‘‘ Have I the honor of addressing his honor the 
mayor ” 


2I8 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


He asked for permission to occupy quarters within 
the town limits. In a slow and ceremonious manner, 
he drew from his coat -pocket a number of much soiled 
documents, displaying under a coating of dirt several 
imposing official seals. It appeared that certain duly 
qualified personages therein bore testimony to the up- 
right character of one John Isidore Peter Grigou, upon 
their own responsibility ; and although the signatures 
to all such documents ought above all to be legible, 
they were in this case, in accordance with the usual 
style of official autographs, quite indecipherable. 

And this reminds me of a story which I once heard 
from my excellent school-teacher, John Fouilloy, a 
worthy man, as wise as the whole French Institute, 
and who possessed the excellent faculty of fixing at- 
tention by relating little anecdotes. So one day, when 
I had been guilty of some extraordinary chirography, 
he told us this tale : — 

‘‘ Once, while travelling in a foreign country, one 
of our compatriots, a Frenchman, was called upon to 
supply a copy of his birth certificate. The document 
was forwarded to him ; but the copyist had not been 
able to make out the names of the signers, and this 
is the way that it ran : — 

‘Mayor (illegible). 


BV PERMISSION OF THE MAYOR. 


219 


‘‘ ‘ Deputy Mayor (illegible)^ 

‘‘ ‘ Receiver (illegible). 

‘ Sub-Prefect (illegible).’ 

‘ How strange ! ’ exclaimed the foreign official ; 
‘functionaries in France all have the same family 
name, and a queer name too, — “ Illegible 1 ” ’ ” 

“ Now apply this to your own writing. It’s absurd 
that any one with an honest name of his own should 
allow strangers to think that he calls himself ‘ Mr. 
Illegible ! ’ ” 

To come back to our narrative, the mayor of Au- 
bergines drew out and unfolded his spectacles, — he 
never put them on except in the performance of his 
official functions, — and read slowly in a loud voice, 
following the words with a big, clumsy finger. 

“This is all right,” he said; “you have conformed 
to the law. But tell me, why do you come here } 
This is not much of a place for merry-makings ; and 
a travelling showman will not find it easy to pick 
up a living among us. Why don’t you go on to 
Orges, just above here, where the Fair opened last 
Tuesday ^ ” 

“ I shall do so, your honor, as soon as I can get away. 
I am waiting here for the rest of my equipment, which 
is on the way from Paris. I assure your honor that 


220 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


I mean well to everybody ; and the show I give is 
entirely an honest show.” 

That’s all very well,” interrupted one of the coun- 
cilmen ; but they talk of a strange animal that you 


\ 



have in your possession. The children saw it under 
shelter, and ran away like foxes with firebrands at 
their tails. What kind of an animal is it that you 
have there } ” 

The showman laughed reassuringly. ^‘Why, it’s a 


man ! 


BV PERMISSION OF THE MAYOR, 


221 


^^What! A man*- as black as a crow, and with 
feathers ? ” 

An inhabitant of some other planet, perhaps ? ’’ 
interrupted the grocer, who was a person of some 
reading. 

He didn’t come as far as that ; but he came from 
a good ways off, all the same. He’s a savage that I 
brought up.” 

This announcement aroused in the auditors mani- 
festations of lively interest. A savage was an unheard- 
of thing at Aubergines ; none had been seen there 
within the memory of man. They had heard savages 
talked of, because the haberdasher’s son, who had 
been around the world and come back with a parrot 
and a monkey, had often told of his adventures among 
them. Thence had arisen stories which had run 
through the countryside, and often served as warnings 
to naughty children : Oh, the wicked boy not to eat 
his soup ; if he’s not good, the savage will come and 
bite him ! ” 

The grocer inquired if this formidable creature were 
not likely to break out and harm somebody ; for his 
part he didn’t feel at all easy with a cannibal at their 
gates. Old Grigou, greatly flattered with the sensa- 
tion he had produced, responded in his foolish vanity. 


222 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


— do not folly and vanity always go together ? — that 
he was perfectly sure of his captive, and was quite 
ready to be held responsible for the creature’s docility 
and inoffensiveness. A sudden inspiration came to 
him. 

I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he said. On Sunday, 
after vespers. I’ll give an exhibition, with the permission 
of the authorities, on the public square. The rest of 
my equipment will be along by that time. I’ll set up 
my booth, and you shall have the chance of seeing my 
famous Pipirikiki.” 

How do you say it } Pipi ” — 

‘‘Rikiki.” 

Ah, Rikikipipi } ” 

No, Pipi, — say it after me, — Pipi.” 

^‘Pipi.” 

- Ri.” 

- Ri.” 

Pipiri.” 

Pipiri.” 

‘^Kiki.” 

Kiki.” 

‘‘Pipirikiki.” 

“ Pipirikiki.” 

“ That’s it, — now you have it.” 


BV PERMISSION OF THE MAYOR, 


223 


He must certainly be a savage,” suggested the 
grocer, or he wouldn’t have such a name as that. 
How much simpler it would be if they would call their 
children Eustace, like me, or Melia, like my wife.” 

The showman having received the permission he 
sought for, folded up his papers, profoundly saluted the 
honorable company, and gayly took his way back to his 
roadside abode. As he walked along, he muttered to 
himself, — . 

‘‘ I guess I know, as well as they do, that there’s 
no money to be made in this beastly country. When 
they said that, they showed that their heads were 
level ; but I’ve got my own little game, and nobody 
else knows what it is.” 


224 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


XX. 

SUZETTE. 

Old Grigou was going along the road all alone 
by himself. He stopped, sat down upon a bank, and 



from a pocket more carefully concealed and deeper than 
the one from which he had taken the official papers, he 



SUZETTE. 


225 


drew out a small case, opened it, and revealed a picture. 
Such a charming picture it was ! A sweet-faced little 
maiden, in a halo of seraphic curls, whose features ex- 
pressed a mischievous grace, looked up and smiled into 
the old showman’s 
eyes. He lifted it to 
his lips, and kissed it 
eagerly. He rubbed 
the soft, bewitching 
countenance against 
his rough beard. 

'' My darling little 
Suzette,” he said, 
talking to himself. 

Those people don’t 
know that I’ve come 
all this way to see 
you. Yes, your old 
grandpa has come to 
see his little pet.” 

That was old Grigou’s secret ; he had a little grand- 
daughter, and he worshipped her ; but he had caused 
her to be brought up aloof from all contact with the 
rude world in which he lived, guarding her as carefully 
as if she had been a princess. His colleagues at the 




226 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

Fair had never seen Suzette, and would never have 
dreamed of such touching tenderness in one so bru- 
tal and rough in his behavior, and so ruthless in his 
tyranny over poor Jack. 

And yet old Grigou was not entirely without the pale 
of humanity. The most arid and forbidding personali- 
ties may be like the Great Desert, blossoming here and 
there into a beautiful oasis. Even in the most sinful 
and depraved, there are remnants of a yearning towards 
goodness, through which they may be brought to salva- 
tion ; they are like the wicked cities spoken of in Holy 
Writ, which are not destroyed so long as two or three 
just men remain within them. In the gloom of the 
darkest heart, there are always a few feeble, yet persist- 
ent, rays of goodness, tenderness, and affection. There 
is no such thing as absolute wickedness. The most 
hardened criminals, boldly confronting the evidences of 
their wrong-doing, may be melted to tears of repentance 
when the right chord is touched. We ought never to 
despair of humanity ; in the most lamentable failures, 
there are possibilities of a return to the beautiful and 
the good. 

Old Grigou had a little granddaughter whom he 
adored, and in whose behalf he was stirred with extraor- 
dinary emotions of affection and resolution. Was it 


SUZETTE, 


227 


not for her that, even in his old age, he continued to 
lead the hard life of a wandering showman ; that he 
increased little by little, with the aid and encourage- 
ment of his wife, his little store of savings ; that he 
endured discomfort and privation, — too often, it is 
true, enlivened with the small drams ” of which, in 
his decrepitude he felt the frequent need ; that he was 
a nomad on the face of the earth, at all seasons and in 
all weathers? Yes, that was the reason; he was try- 
ing to amass a dowry for Suzanne, — for his Suzette. 
And observe how curiously this motive affected his 
conduct, — it was to make certain the happiness of his 
sweet child, that he was so hard a taskmaster to the 
unfortunate lad who had fallen into his hands, and bade 
fair to make his fortune. Suzette’s dowry must grow 
as fast as possible, and Jack was the hapless victim of 
old Grigou’s fatherly ambition. 

Suzette was an orphan ; and this is how she came 
under old Grigou’s protection. • The showman had dis- 
played but little affection toward his son, had brought 
him up very strictly, and had caused him to be trained 
as an acrobat. The lad became a marvel of agility, 
suppleness, and audacity. You have probably seen him 
at the circus, — wearing the fantastic garb of a clown, 
bouncing around like an india-rubber ball, walking 


228 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


( 


along the ceiling with his feet, and along the ground 
on his head ; for he seemed to do nothing like anybody 
else, and to be quite independent of the law of gravita- 
tion to which ordinary mortals are 

Ij subject. Between his somersaults 

and girations, young Grigou noticed 
a damsel, who seemed to 

take a great deal of in- 
terest in his performance. 
They were married at the 
mayor’s office, and that was 
a lucky day for the youthful 
acrobat. In the pride 
and delight of his 
heart, he accomplished 
unheard-of wonders in 
the way of bold ex- 

ploits and graceful 
feats of skill. One 

day, as he was toss- 
ing up hats and catching them on his head, and had 
got as far as ten, he called out, It’s there, sure ! ” 
And then his colleagues brought him a big nosegay, 
saying in their turn, '' It’s there, sure ! ” 

Yes, my friend; it’s there, sure. We have the 



SUZETTE, 


229 


pleasure of informing you that you have been to-day 
presented with a lovely little daughter ! 

The clown turned pale through his powder, and in a 
series of mad leaps, — the maddest and most joyous of 
his whole career, — hastened to the side of the smiling 
mother. 

I think,” said the 
happy woman, that you 
must have snatched 
her from the angels 
in one of those lofty 
jumps you some- 
times make from 
the high trapeze. 

Isn’t she a perfect 
little angel } Just 
look at her ! ” 

The clown, who had not spared the time to change 
his clothes, bent his grotesque head-dress over the frail 
mite, smiling with his large, red-painted mouth, and 
stammered two or three tender words. Most of his 
leisure hours were passed by the cradle, where he 
kneeled with clasped hands, admiring the pale beauty 
of the dainty little lips, so eager for the breast ; or 
watching his delight mirrored in the heavenly blue of 



230 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


those sweet eyes, which were the light of his life ; or 
mumbling the delicate fists, which now and then malie 
faint signs, the first demands for caresses and kisses. 

Dear wife,” he said, we’ll call her after you. 
Her name shall be Suzanne.” 

I shall make the story short, it is so sad. A month 
went by, and under the inscrutable stroke of a cruel 
destiny, Suzanne lost her mother. Grief dulled young 
Grigou’s wits; and so ^ one night, making his daring 
leap, he missed the lower bar of the trapeze, and fell. 
That was eight years ago. 

Since that time Suzette had been in charge of her 
grandparents, who had manifested on her behalf unsus- 
pected stores of tenderness, and had caused her to be 
brought up in a farmer’s family, with the utmost care 
and solicitude. She was a merry, mischievous, be- 
witching little creature ; the charms of her natural 
disposition being developed by happy and sympathetic 
surroundings. For all this care, the showman paid 
willingly a goodly sum ; and at the farm they always 
spoke of her as Our Young Lady.” The Orgeville 
farm, where Suzette lived, is only three or four miles 
from Aubergines ; and that is why old Grigou had 
decided to remain in this part of the country, by 
permission of his honor the mayor. 


LEFT ALONE. 


231 




XXL 


LEFT ALONE. 



The rest of 
the equipment 
connected with old 
Grigou’s show at 
the Gingerbread 
Fair arrived two 
days later. All 
the accessories 
necessary for the 
grand and wonder- 
ful exhibition were 
got together, and 
the news was an- 
no u n c e d every- 
where by the vil- 
lage drummer, — rat-a-tat, 
rat-a-tat, tat ! ” The people gathered in 
groups along the main street. They told one another 
that it was going to be a great occasion. 


232 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


Grigou had taken advantage of their brief period of 
repose to brighten up and redecorate the booth and 
signs, and to study up a new speech, for the old one 
was getting to be somewhat hackneyed. He did all 
this, however, in an abstracted way, for his thoughts 
were largely occupied with his beloved Suzette. 

A long debate occurred between himself and his 
wife as to whether they would 
have 


visit 
they 
at 

concluded that it would 

be better to go to her. There are foolish and disa- 
greeable people everywhere, and the showman’s grand- 
daughter might be ridiculed if her relation to them 
were known. They would avoid any possibility of 
offensive remarks, by concealing their occupation from 
Suzette’s friends and acquaintances. The difficulty in 
this plan was for the grandfather and grandmother to 




LEFT ALONE. 


233 


get away long enough to .make the proposed visit. 
Who, in their absence, would guard the camp } Who 
would attend to Theodulus ? 

'‘Wife,’' said the showman, "it seems to me that 
Jack” — 

" He ? Why, he’d run away if we left him 
alone.” 

" Run away, rigged up as he is, all black, and cov- 
ered with feathers ? He wouldn’t get farther than 
the first farm before the laborers would be after 
him with a pitchfork.” 

" Well, I guess you’re right. We’ll ' leave him to 
look after the van, and to-morrow we’ll make our visit 
to Suzette.” 

The next day they showed an extraordinary interest 
in poor Jack’s welfare, — so much so that the lad 
was not a little surprised at their change of attitude. 
Perhaps you remember the little story I told you, along 
back, about John, and how he helped the pedler woman 
when she was having such a bad time in the snow. 
You remember, — when he lent a helping hand after 
he had seen the oranges. 

No doubt the kindness of the showman and his 
wife was far from being disinterested ; but Jack was 
so hungry for even a show of affection, that he was 


234 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 



simple enough to believe himself at length in a fair 
way to get into the good graces of his employers. 

‘‘Jack,” said old Grigou gently, — that is to say, as 
gently as his harsh, brandy-rasped voice would per- 


mit, — ‘‘Jack, you are to eat henceforth at the boss’s 
table. We are very well satisfied with your behavior, 
and wish to give you a little pleasure. You have been 
a good boy, and have given us no trouble. Come 
along, then, and sit down and eat all you want, and 
to-night we’ll have another surprise in store for you.” 


LEFT ALONE. 


235 


Jack was confused, and stammered out his thanks, 
his heart overflowing with joy and gratitude. But 
why are they so kind to me ^ ” he thought ; “ is it the 
country air that makes them so polite } ” 

They sat down ; the stew was appetizing and fra- 
grant. They poured out a draught of wine for him, 
and, dainty of dainties, regaled him with apple-tart. It 
was a veritable orgy. 

‘‘ By all that’s great,” exclaimed the boss, they 
shall never say that we didn’t give you a drop of the 
right stuff.” 

• Papa,” said Ma’am Grigou coaxingly, '‘you’ll just 
spoil the boy.” 

That was true enough, for a drink of brandy is 
enough to spoil any boy ; it’s not a beverage suited to 
youth. Jack made a dreadful face. 

" Hum,” said old Grigou ; “ good 1 ” 

"It chokes,” replied Jack, with a laugh. 

" Well, put some sugar in it ; that will make you a 
lollipop.” 

" Sugar } ” responded Jack, who had the vanity of 
the youth who wanted to be a man; " sugar No, 
thank you ; that’s all very well for babies ! ” 

The repast ended, — the first square meal that Jack 
had had for many a day, — the lad felt as gay as a lark. 


236 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


and as chatty as a blackbird. The showman sent his 
wife away to dress ; and she came tottering down the 
steps, her vast corpulence emphasized by a gown of 
gray silk, dating from her far distant honeymoon. She 
O had put on her fine, flower-decked bonnet 
and all her jewels, — a medallion 
brooch bearing a sil- 
houette portrait of 
her husband as he 
was in his younger 
days, a gold chain, 
and numberless 
rings ; so that she 
had a fairly monu- 
mental aspect. 

The old showman 
himself was got up 
in no such grand 
voluminous cravat and good stout shoes 
were the principal features of his Sunday toilet. 
Jack was surprised on seeing old Grigou and his wife 
attired in their best, and on the point of departure. 

Savage,” said the boss, ‘^we leave you in charge. 
Everything is made fast ; keep close watch, and don’t 
allow anybody to enter. You understand me. Have 



style. 


LEFT ALONE. 


237 


an eye on Theodulus. As for yourself, I advise you 
not to get far away. There are mounted police in 
this neighborhood.” 

Police ! ” repeated Jack, turning pale. 

''That’s all. I simply warn you. Don’t go outside. 
We shall be back in a few hours. If you behave your- 
self,” old Grigou added, " I’ll give you a cleaning up at 
Whitsuntide, and you shall be a white boy again for a 
day or two. That will be a vacation for you.” 

"Oh, boss ! I’ll be as good as gold. You’ll see. I’ll 
do anything, if you’ll only let me be white again ! ” 

Old Grigou and his wife walked away, turning back 
now and then somewhat anxiously. " I don’t feel easy 
about this,” said Ma’am Grigou; "no; I don’t feel 
«easy about it.” 


238 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


XXII. 

THEODULUS’S GLUTTONY. 

How Strange it seemed to Jack after they were 
gone ! At last he was alone and at liberty ; but liberty 
was to him so unusual a boon that he hardly knew what 
to do with himself. Released from restraint, left to 
himself, to a certain degree his own master, how should 
he pass the time } He wandered about the camp, ex- 
amining closely what he had heretofore only seen at a 
distance, feeling of what he had been forbidden to 
touch, — but timidly, stealthily, trembling at the least 
noise, as if the incessant scrutiny of his jailers, which 
had weighed so heavily upon him, had not been inter- 
rupted by their departure. They were invisible, but he 
felt the influence of their presence. Every instant he 
expected to see them leap from the ground. In the 
first few moments this sensation was very strong in 
hiuL 

They . had told him not to go far away ; that was 
enough to make him wish to explore the surrounding 


THEOn ULUSES GLUTTONY. 


239 


country ; but he felt shy and uneasy as he looked 
around. The road was deserted. The laborers in the 
fields were so far off that he could scarcely perceive 
their almost motionless figures. 

Access to the interior of the van was, to his great 
regret, denied him ; the door was closed and locked. 
He walked around it, trembling lest he should be per- 
ceived, stepping carefully, 
and on the alert to 
make a quick retreat. 

Theodulus, in a calm 
and dignified way, 
was brousing on the 
scant herbage that 
still remained un- 
cropped. Jack went to 
make him a visit. Their old 
friendship naturally led them to say a great deal to 
each other. Jack sat down on the ground, and began 
a dialogue in which the burden of conversation was 
very largely on his side. To all appearances, Theod- 
ulus was content to listen. He looked at Jack with 
his big gray eyes, pricked up his ears occasionally, and 
only switched his tail when the flies were very bother- 
some. Theodulus was evidently satisfied with not being 




240 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


ignored. Several friendly slaps upon the neck seemed 
to be agreeable to him ; and with the utmost gentleness 
he rested his great head on Jack’s shoulder, and went 
on chewing the mouthful of grass he had gathered from 
the sward. At this manifestation of esteem, Jack, not 
wishing to be outdone in politeness, decided to tender a 
hunch of bread, and he went to his tent to get it. 

Zany, the monkey, who was looking on, bubbled over 
with wrath. He could not understand at all why he 
was not included in the festivity. He sniffed up his 
nose, and hurled fierce imprecations at the youthful 
savage. In the violence of his emotion, he danced a 
wild can-can at the end of his chain, his little eyes snap- 
ping wickedly. Jack, who had never been on friendly 
terms with the monkey since the tricks the creature had 
played on him that first day, paid but little attention to 
these manifestations of tempestuous fury. He was 
thinking only of his friend Theodulus, and did not 
concern himself with the ingrate. Theodulus seemed 
to be greatly touched with the attention bestowed upon 
him, and made known his pleasure in a whinny of satis- 
faction. 

To the bread, of which the horse made a generous 
feast. Jack decided to add a few handfuls of feed, of 
^vhich he had discovered a store in rummaging about 


THEODULUS^S GLUTTONY. 


241 


the premises. To think, that on his first restoration to 
liberty, Jack should have used it so ill ! A horse is fed 
at regular intervals. We may suppose that under the 
showman’s rule the intervals were somewhat extended, 
and that a more abundant repast would not be likely to 
cause Theodulus serious suffering through indigestion ; 
but, at any rate, he had ordinarily enough to keep him 
going, and that, after all, is the essential thing. 



They’re no good, if you keep ’em fat,” said the show- 
man, whose proverbial wisdom was invariably based on 
motives of economy. Theodulus was not weighed down 
with superabundance of flesh ; and if a horse’s capacity 
for work is in proportion to his thinness, he must have 
been of invaluable service. 

‘‘ Poor old fellow,” said Jack, whose sympathy for 
dumb animals was always alert ; '' poor old fellow. 



242 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


you’re nothing but skin and bones ! They pinch us 
close in this establishment ! What do you say to a 
good feed ? ” 

Theodulus did not understand very clearly the words 
of this discourse, but he knew that they were addressed 
to him. He fixed an eye as large as a silver franc-piece 
on his interlocutor, and quite failed to grasp the other’s 
meaning. He understood very well, however, — ac- 
tions speak louder than words to dumb animals as well 
as to other people, — when Jack brought a basket of 
feed, and held it a few inches from his nose. Theodulus, 
aroused at once from his apathy, pulled hard at the 
tether, and stretched his neck toward the basket. 

Oh, you old glutton ! ” said Jack. ‘‘ See how he 
sniffs ! That’s the kind you like, eh ; good old The- 
odulus } ” 

Theodulus, with friendly and vigorous action, rubbed 
his head against Pipirikiki, and exhibited signs of irre- 
sistible appetite. 

‘'Oh, no,” cried Jack; “not all of it; only one or 
two handfuls ! ” He put in a measure what he thought 
would be the right amount, and placed the measure on 
a keg. The basket of feed he returned to the place 
from which he had taken it. Theodulus was annoyed 
at the delay. 


THEODULUS'S GLUTTONY. 


243 


Everybody is free here to-day,” said Jack ; Grigou 
is gone away ! ” He took off the halter, in order that 
the horse might eat more comfortably. Hungry ? 
Well I should say so ! ” he exclaimed, looking on. 

There’s an appetite for you. Would Mr. Theodulus 
like a napkin } No ? But no doubt Mr. Theodulus 
would like a little something to drink } We have a 
very fine brand of Adam’s ale in stock here. I will 
do myself the pleasure of bringing a mug of it for 
the benefit of my excellent old friend.” 

The bucket was leaning against the van ; he went in 
quest of it, intent upon filling it with the fresh, cool 
water from the brook. 

Zany, the monkey, continued to display his furious 
discontent with preparations in which he was not 
allowed to take part. He made extremely profane 
remarks in an untranslatable tongue, and went on wink- 
ing his little vicious eyes. Everything for Theodolus, 
and nothing for him ! Did the savage suppose that 
such things would be allowed } With his clenched 
fists, after the manner of a child or an old man, he 
pulled with all his might at his chain, and shook his 
cage violently. His wrath was frightful to see. 

Jack had excepted Zany from his usual feeling 
toward animals, out of a not very praiseworthy spirit 


244 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


of revenge. And what was he seeking to punish ? — 
a mischievous animal, for a very slight grievance. An 
ape is an ape, and one must be lacking in intelligence 
to find fault with it for doing apish things. 

Go it,'’ said Jack; ‘‘go it ! You’re a funny one ! ” 
He ran out his tongue at the beast ; and Zany, in a 
spirit of servile imitation, returned the compliment. 

“You ugly animal,” the monkey seemed to say. 
“You feathered scoundrel; you needn’t make up such 
faces as that at me ! ” 


ZANY AT LIBERTY. 


245 


XXIIL 


ZANY AT LIBERTY. 


If the relations between the boy and the monkey 
were somewhat strained, so also was the cord which 
held Zany captive, — so strained, in fact, that it yielded 
to the angry tug- 
ging and pulling ^ 



of the enraged an- 
imal, and finally 
gave way alto- 
gether. Zany was 
at liberty, in his 
turn, and at first 
was as much as- 


tonished at the un- 
wonted experience as Jack had been. He could not 
believe that he was really free; and, as if to assure 
himself of his escape, he turned back after every leap 
away from the cage, with apparent surprise to find that 
the cord had not in some way again been attached to 


246 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

his body. Satisfied at length that he was actually his 
own master, he celebrated his unexpected deliverance 
with a series of wild gambols , which had no other 
purpose than to afford an outlet for his exuberant 
delight. His newly gained liberty fairly intoxicated 
him, and inspired all sorts of mad pranks. With abso- 
lute freedom, he felt 
very much as Jack 
did, and promised 
himself a very good 
time. 

Jack, as you may 
imagine, was not 
at all pleased with 
the situation. Zany 
had escaped, and 
the question now 
was. What would become of him } What would the 
boss say when he got back } What punishment would 
fall upon Jack in consequence of the flight of his four- 
footed companion He tried coaxing — 

Zany ! Zany ! Will you come back } Do, please, 
come back ! ’’ 

But the more Zany was urged to return to his cage, 
the less disposed he seemed to be to obey. He pos- 



ZAJVV AT LIBERTY. 


247 


sessed a good deal of gymnastic talent, and made exper- 
iments to see if he had lost his former suppleness ; and 
he found that much of it still remained. Physical train- 
ing had formed the chief branch of his education ; and 
by the aid of hands, feet, and tail he succeeded in 
climbing to the top of the booth. There he ambled to 
and fro, and made faces at poor Jack, whose impatient 
and feverish despair the monkey found to be quite 
fascinating. Jack got a ladder, and put it against the 
side of the booth ; Zany sat in a careless and waiting 
attitude on the edge of the roof ; but just as the boy 
put out his hand to seize him, he adroitly retreated. 
Jack renewed his supplications: — 

Dear little Zany, listen to me ; you don’t want to 
get me into trouble. You don’t want to be the means 
of having me punished. Come back, and let’s be good 
friends. I haven’t treated you just right, but I’ll make 
it up to you. Wouldn’t you like a piece of bread } I’ll 
get some for you.” 

The monkey was greatly impressed by this pleading, 
and did his best to imitate it ; but he did not find it at 
all convincing. He dallied with his liberty in an egotis- 
tic and insolent fashion, making as if he were about to 
come down, and then sidling to the top of the roof 
again, with a facetious and mocking manner. 


248 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


<‘Zany, you want to get me into trouble,” murmured 
Jack in disgust ; all right — all right, I’ll remember it.” 

Zany, seated on the roof, had found an apricot, which 
had fallen there from a neighboring tree ; and he gnawed 
at it with his handsome white teeth, as he turned it in 

his busy fingers scrutin- 
izingly. He de- 
voured the fruit 
with the serenity 
of an antique 
god, with abso- 
lute indifference 
to his surroundings, 
spitting out the 
skin and the stone 
that he might enjoy 
-.y to the full the delicious pulp, 

y ‘‘This is fine,” he seemed to say; 

this is great ! I get my meals in 
freedom as well as in captivity ; and I venture to think 
that my own choice of rations is best. They never 
gave me any apricots. It’s a fruit that I am very 
fond of.” ^ 

He picked up the stone, -which he had let fall, with 
the suspicion that the kernel might give an agreeable 



ZANY AT LIBERTY. 


249 


fillip to his palate. He set to work on it with a quiet 
and business-like air which revived Jack’s hopes. 

He won’t go very far, that’s plain,” thought Jack ; 
‘‘perhaps I shall get him back again.” 

He kept one eye on Zany, and Zany kept one eye on 
him. At every attempt made by the boy to approach 
him, the animal stopped biting at the apricot kernel, and 
put himself on the defensive ; then, without moving, he 
resumed his task, grinding his teeth against the hard 
stone. You would have laughed if you had heard Jack 
offering assistance in the most innocent arfd persuasive 
way : “ It is so hard I’m afraid you can’t break it. 
Shan’t I help you.^^” The little fraud! — but he was 
no match for the monkey. Zany ignored the sugges- 
tion. “Thanks, my friend,” he might have said; “I 
know the price of your assistance. You want to tie me 
up again. ,That isn’t what I got away for.” 

During this interlude, which had made no disturbance, 
in spite of the excitement connected with it, Theodulus 
stood with his nose in the empty measure, and thought 
how good the feed had been, and how glad he would 
be to have a little more. 


250 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


XXIV. 

A GENERAL IN PETTICOATS. 

Sounds were heard coming from a distance. Every- 
body listened, — Zany, Theodulus, and Jack. It was a 
confused clamor of silvery voices and echoing laughter. 
It drew nearer. It came from a company of children. 



Jack left the monkey ; and peeping through the hole 
in his tent, slyly watched their approach. 

There were half a dozen of them, — prattling, jostling 
one another, carrying wooden swords, and wearing paper 
caps. They dragged behind them a formidable piece 
of artillery, consisting of a cannon about three inches 


A GENERAL IN RETT/COATS. 


251 


long, which had lost one wheel in some previous engage- 
ment, and for that reason lay obstinately on one side. 
The little company must have come from a distance, 
for their shoes were very dusty ; and evidently they 
were strangers to the neighborhood, for a little country 
boy, who was passing, looked at them with surprise. 
They were commanded by a general ; and the general, 
odd to say, was a little girl. It is seldom that the 
gentler sex participate in military evolutions, but in this 
case the choice had no doubt been made on account of 
the special fitness of the dainty maiden for the post 
which she occupied. She was, in fact, very decided in 
her manner, authoritative and alert in bearing, and her 
gestures were few and deliberate. At skipping and 
running, in which she occasionally indulged with the 
manifest object of stimulating the zeal of her troops, 
she was endowed with sprightly energy. She was, in 
imagination, on horseback ; and in order to carry out 
the illusion, she had put a string in the mouth of one 
of the boys, and kept the two ends in her hand. Any- 
body could see, with half a glance, that the string was 
a bridle, and that the boy was a horse. 

The troops began to show some indications of un- 
easiness. They seemed to be uncertain as to their 
whereabouts. It is glorious to lead an army out to 


252 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

battle, beneath a banner, made of a tattered shirt tied 
to the end of a hazel stick ; but it is well to remember 
that the most brilliant warfare must have an end, and 
that when it is over the proper thing to do is to return 
to one’s own fireside. One of the soldiers spoke : — 
My feet hurt me walking so far. Fighting is 
pretty hard work.” 

I have never been as far as this. Where are we ? ” 
demanded another belligerent, in great distress of mind. 

‘‘Are we going much farther.^ I’m afraid,” added 
another. 

“ It may be that we are lost,” the general responded ; 
“ but we’H find ourselves again. All you have to do is 
to follow me.” 

Henry IV. once made almost exactly the same speech. 
Great captains, it is plain, have a similar method of 
meeting such emergencies. 

At this point of the conversation, the showman’s 
establishment attracted the children’s attention. What 
could that be } What a funny house ! It was on 
wheels ! The army halted, with open mouths and wide- 
stretched eyes, hesitating between alarm and curiosity. 
The general lashed her battle-steed, who, champing the 
bit, — that is to say, the string, — exclaimed : — 

“ I am afraid ! ” 


A GENERAL IN RETT/COATS. 


253 


Afraid of what ? You ninny ! How stupid you 
are ! ” responded the brave commander. 

He was afraid of the novel appearance of the en- 
campment, which resembled nothing he had ever seen 
before. Was it inhabited ? And what sort of people 
lived there ? The little country lad, who had been 
looking on, approached and said, — 

'' Somebody lives there ; they’s gone away.’' 

-Who.?” 

- The man and woman.” He had seen the showman 
and Ma’am Grigou departing in their Sunday best, and 
for that reason he believed that the place was deserted. 
He supplied additional explanations, drawn from his 
own fancy, with regard to the presence of the strange 
wheel-wagon, and of the astonishing beast which had 
been seen there, and which had made such a sensa- 
tion in the village. The army gathered about the 
narrator, and beset him with artless questions, as in- 
terested as if they had come upon a new and gayly 
illustrated story-book. 

- And did you see the beast .? ” 

- Oh, yes ; yes ” — 

The details that followed sent a shudder through the 
audience. Was it still there ? Probably. Perhaps it 
was asleep. All at once a voice cried, - There it 


254 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


is ! ’’ and a general stampede followed, hearts beating 
wildly, and legs flying like windmills. The little girl 
commander was the first to stop and turn around. 
Where did you see the beast ? ” 

‘‘There — see! It’s looking at us.” 

The original historian ventured a sidelong glance. 
“ Mine’s larger than that,” he said ; “ this is another. 
There must be a lot of them ! ” 



The terrible animal that had inspired their flight was 
Zany, who had been attracted by the noise, and had 
come to see what it was all about. Without relaxing 
his hold on the apricot kernel, — his greed for dain- 
ties making him persistent in his laborious task, — he 
examined the newcomers with a bantering eye. 

“Why, it’s a monkey,” said the little girl. “I saw 
one once at the Fair. Come and see the monkey ; 
it’s the funniest creature that ever was.” 


A GENERAL IN PETTICOATS. 255 

So they went back toward the camp, reassured, 
happy, romping, forgetting their fatigue and hunger, 
the time of day, and their alarm a few moments be- 
fore when they discovered that they had lost their 
way. Jack watched them, and rubbed his hands. 

Good ! ” he said ; they’ll make so much noise 
that they’ll frighten Zany, and he’ll go back to his 
cage. I’ll keep quiet and see what happens.” 


256 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


XXV. 


IN PURSUIT OF THE MONKEY. 



But Zany was confi- 
dent of his ability to 
elude pursuit, and his 
courage increased in propor- 
tion to the square of the dis- 
tance between himself and the 
attacking army. He was nat- 
urally of a peaceful disposition, and 
it was not until his pursuers opened hos- 
tilities by throwing a stone at him, that 
he thought of active defence. The stone 
did not hit him, but it put him on the alert. He re- 
sponded by hurling the apricot kernel at the besiegers, 
and it hit the little country boy straight in the eye. 
The little fellow shrieked as if he had received his 
death-wound. This must be a very naughty animal ; 
when he is attacked he defends himself. 

The army re-formed, under the effect of this out- 


IN PURSUIT OF THE MONKEY. 


257 


rageous assault, and laid in a new supply of ammuni- 
tion of all kinds, — stones, clods of earth, and sticks, 
— with which they pelted the wretched Zany. What 
could he do against such a volley as that } He must 
succumb or take flight, and he preferred flight. He 
sprang into a tree which had one branch overhanging 
the booth. 

Once up there, he was very much at home as he 
played hide-and-seek among the leaves. He was so 
far up that missiles could not reach him. He whistled 
with anger at the outrage which had been perpetrated 
upon him, congratulating himself upon his freedom 
from further persecution, and driving the frightened 
birds from their haunts as he leaped from branch to 
branch. 

Let’s climb up,” said the little girl. ‘‘ Let’s bring 
the monkey down.” 

Her decision aroused the whole army, and she set 
them an example. Possessed of unusual agility, and as 
supple as the monkey she was pursuing, she grasped 
the tree-trunk with arms and legs, and began to scram- 
ble after Zany. Three of the boys followed her. The 
branches bent almost to breaking under the unaccus- 
tomed weight. Zany made ready to leap into an ad- 
joining tree. Jack saw that his plan had miscarried, 


258 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 



and he determined to interfere. As he turned, and 

was about to show him- 
self to the invading 
forces, he saw that 
the gluttonous The- 
odulus had profited 
by the opportunity, 
and now stood at the 
foot of the tree where 
the feed was, devouring 
it with all his might and 

main. He had entered so 

heartily upon his repast, 
that very little of the 
feed remained. 

The feed,” shouted 
Jack ; ‘‘he is eat- 
ing all the feed ! 

This is the last 

straw ; I am done 
for now. Oh, the 
rascal ! ” 

He hurled at the 
imperturbable animal a select vocabulary of opprobri- 
ous epithets, — not altogether unpardonable under the 


IN PURSUIT OF THE MONKEY. 


259 


circumstances, — but he would settle with Theodulus 
later on ; at present his duty lay elsewhere. He must 
rid the tree of the besiegers. 

The children had entered upon their sport with a 
zeal peculiar to their age, and they conducted them- 
selves quite differently from the behavior of Robinson 
Crusoe in a somewhat similar contingency. To begin 
with, they made a deafening racket. ^ They bawled and 
shrieked and screamed. Zany had all his plans laid 
for successful flight ; and for the time being he con- 
tented himself with making feints at his persecutors, 
showing that even in the art of war he was their 
master. 

The girl commander of the troop pressed him hotly. 
She strove valiantly to seize him, and they carried on 
the contest like two agile gymnasts. She sat astride 
the highest branch of all, and grabbed Zany by the 
tail. The monkey devised a stratagem ; he jumped 
upon the head of the intrepid maiden, and dominated 
the situation with a gravity of aspect truly absurd. 

Jack thought it time to emerge from his concealment. 
He stood out in the open, and making a speaking trum- 
pet of his hands, he shouted, — 

Wait, and Til help you ! ” 

A brief and frigid silence followed this announce- 


26 o 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


ment, and then a noise of rustling leaves accompanying 
a general descension. The children slipped from the 
tree like a bunch of grapes, overwhelmed with panic- 



terror, very pale, and their hair standing on end. “The 
beast ! ” said one. 

The little girl remained in the tree, however, and 
mocked at the cowards who had forsaken her. With 


IN PURSUIT OF THE MONKEY: 26 1 

her skirts drawn close about her, she craned over in a 
dominating fashion, and snapped her fingers at ‘‘the 
beast,” as her little comrades called poor Jack. But as 
the tree rebounded from the sudden retreat of the other 
children, the branch on which she sat swayed wildly ; 
and, agile as the courageous maiden was, a catastrophe 
was inevitable. Oh, look, look ! She is falling, she 
is falling! From such a height as that, a fall would be 
a terrible thing. The children on the ground gazed in 
consternation. Jack felt the blood rush to his face, and 
then back to his heart, leaving him faint. He stag- 
gered, and leaned against the side of the van to keep 
himself on his feet. When he opened his eyes, he 
expected to see a bruised and mangled form lying on 
the turf, cast down there from the effect of his sudden 
shout. What was his astonishment to see her, in fact, 
lying across Theodulus’s back, and Theodulus running 
away I 

By an unlooked-for and fortunate accident, the little 
maiden had, in her fall, lighted upon the brave Theo- 
dulus, who, having completed his larceny of feed, had 
remained at the foot of the tree in philosophical medi- 
tation. He did not seem, at first, to be very much 
surprised at the unwonted burden so unexpectedly 
thrust upon him ; and it so happened that the little 


262 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


girl, in lighting upon his back, was more stunned than 
hurt. 

Theodulus thought the matter over for a moment ; 
never in his experience had a rider fallen upon him 
from the skies before. Did he, perhaps, revive his 
memories of the race-course 1 That is possible. It 
may be that the scant weight of this new rider re- 


minded him of the 
:keys who had once 
ided his course at 
)ngchamps and Au- 
uil ; it may be that 



he dreamed of hap- 
pier times. 


Perhaps, too, 
the sumptuous 
repast in which 
he had just in- 


dulged had stimulated his spirits to unaccustomed 
vivacity, and he may have imagined that he was once 
more entered against English competitors in the strug- 
gle for the grand Paris prize. This idea firmly fixed 
in his mind, he hesitated no longer. Animated by a 
generous ardor, which was no doubt largely due to 
the feed, he galloped away in a frantic dash, while the 


S""'' " ■' 

IN PURSUIT OF THE MONKEY, 263 

small maiden, pale but determined, kept a firm grip of 
his mane. 

Jack understood fully the extent of the danger to 
which the little rider was exposed. Either the child 
would fall off the horse’s back and be seriously injured, 



or the horse himself would stumble and fall, and crush 
the precious burden which had so marvellously been 
thrown upon him. 

Theodulus became more and more excited, and gal- 
loped wildly onward. The children under the tree 
were glued to the spot, as they saw their brave com- 
panion swiftly carried away. Jack made a rapid cal- 



264 the three apprentices. 

culation, and decided that by taking a short cut he 
might perhaps intercept the horse and its helpless 
rider before any further accident happened. He darted 
away in the direction which he thought most favorable 
to his purpose. 


OLD GRIGOU^S SORROW, 


265 


XXVL 

OLD GRIGOU’S SORROW. 

Ten minutes had barely elapsed after the incidents 
just related, when the showman and his wife returned. 
They were gloomy and perplexed. 

‘‘ I can’t understand,” Grigou was saying to his wife, 
how Suzette could have been away so long ; she must 
have met with some accident.” 

She’s so wild ; so heedless ; such a tomboy. Always 
playing with ragamuffins. Is there any other girl of 
her age with such ways ? She is not fond of other 
little girls, and she won’t have anything to do with 
dolls. She wants to run and caper and climb trees, 
and be more of a monkey than Zany himself.” 

What would you have ? She gets all that from her 
father. One isn’t daughter to an acrobat for nothing.” 

‘‘ Her mother wasn’t an acrobat, but a quiet and 
ladylike person. Why couldn’t she take after her 
mother, or after her grandmother ? Do I go capering 
and skipping around ? Did you ever see me skip ? Do 


2 66 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

I turn somersaults ? Did you ever see me turn somer- 
saults ? My faith, I can’t understand what gets into 
the children’s blood nowadays ! ” 

Be easy, Perpetuity ; don’t get excited. Suzette 
will be back soon. She must be out in the fields 
somewhere.” 

I don’t feel so sure about that. Out in the fields 
She didn’t get back, either to dinner or supper ; and 
that isn’t usual. Something’s happened. Listen to 
me. You stay here at the van, and this evening I will 
go back to the farm. I must look into this ; in any 
case we don’t want her going out galavanting around in 
this fashion.” 

Have it your own way, woman,” responded Grigou, 
no less uneasy than was his wife. 

At a respectful distance from the camp stood a little 
group of children, the remnants of the little military ex- 
pedition, very much excited, and yet very quiet. The 
little country boy pointed with his finger at the show- 
man and Ma’am Grigou, and said, ‘‘ There they are ! ” 
Old Grigou was the first to enter the camp, followed 
by his wife. He took a look into Jack’s tent, and called 
out, — 

What’s this } He isn’t here ! ” Then he shouted, 
‘‘ Jack ! Jack ! Jack ! where are you ? ” 


OLD GRIGOU'S SORROW. 


26y 


Receiving no answer, he called again. Had he run 
away ? Could it be possible, in such an attire and in 
full daylight ? Could he possibly have been guilty of 



such folly ? And yet it was very plain that he was not 
about the camp. Moreover, Theodulus was gone too. 

Merciful goodness ! ” lamented Ma’am Grigou ; 
^^why did you leave him here alone It’s your fault. 



268 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


I told you how it would be. To think of leaving a 
savage here by himself, and now he’s run away with the 
horse. Quick, Grigou ; hurry to the police ! Hurry, 
and have him arrested ! He’s a thief, a robber, as 
perfect a scoundrel as ever lived ! ” 

The showman prowled about the camp, and found the 
feed-basket empty. ‘‘ See here, he’s given him all the 
feed ! It’s enough to make him crazy. Theodulus al- 
ways was a frisky animal. If he’s at his old tricks, old 
girl, he must be a good ways off.” 

‘‘ Goodness gracious ! ” exclaimed Ma’am Grigou. 
‘‘ This is the last straw. What shall we do ? One 
thing follows another, — Jack gone and the horse 
stolen ! What in the name of mercy is going to 
happen next ? ” 

‘‘ If I get my grip on him once,” said the showman, 
swinging the well-worn strap, he won’t need any fire 
to warm himself with.” 

If you get your grip on him ! ” squeaked his wife ; 
he’s got the best of you, you big, stupid dummy. To 
think of your going roaming round the country and 
leaving this place in the care of such a blackguard ! ” 
She leaned over, close to his face, and hooked her fin- 
gers as if she were going to scratch. ‘‘ Aw, if I didn’t 
just hold myself in ! ” — 


OLD GRIGOU^S SORROW. 


269 


Attracted by the violence of this outbreak, and by 
the suggestive attitudes and gestures with which it was 
accompanied, the children had drawn nearer, and the 
open door gave free range to their curiosity regarding 
the interior of the van and its inmates. Breathless, 
alert, ready to take flight at the slightest warning, they 
looked with all their eyes, and listened with all their 
ears. 

The dialogue was continued in more and more exas- 
perating terms, and culminated in a paroxysm of anger. 
Each accused the other of responsibility for Jack’s es- 
cape and the loss of Theodulus. Despair succeeded to 
wrath. Each sank upon a stool, a prey to perplexing 
thoughts, and looking about wildly and confusedly. At 
this moment a pebble fell at their feet ; they both looked 
up and saw, in the tree above them. Zany, who had 
evidently desired to wish them a good-evening. 

‘‘ Zany out too ! ” 

The rascal has avenged himself well,” said old 
Grigou. ‘‘He has set Theodulus and Zany at liberty, 
and taken leave. He’s made a clean sweep.” 

“ Oh,” exclaimed Perpetuity, still raging, “ the po- 
lice, the police ! Have him arrested. You know what 
a little scoundrel he is. He’s a thief. You must 
tell everything.” 


2/0 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


Are you sure of that ? that he is a thief ? ” 

I heard him one night, talking in his sleep. When 
he came to us he had been thieving from his employer. 
Denounce him as a thief. Denounce him quick. De- 
nounce him while 
you have time, — 
while he may yet 
be arrested. If 
he took the horse 
to get away, the 
police have horses, 
and can chase him. 
They’ll catch him, 
and bring him back to us in 
chains.” 

‘‘ No, they won’t do that ; they’ll 
take him to prison.’’ 

« Well, it’s all the same to me, 
if they only catch him.” 




Zany had laid in a good stock of projectiles, and 
continued his sport. He sent a shower of pebbles 
after the showman ; and when he hit the mark he was 
very much amused, and celebrated his success with 
cries that were more insolent than malicious. 


OLD GRIGOU^S SORROW. 


271 


All right, my good fellow ; you’ll come back,” 
shouted the showman ; hunger, which fetches the 
wolf out of the woods, will also bring a runaway mon- 
key to his rations. All I have to do is to be patient 
and wait. Go on with your stone-throwing ; it will all 
be put in the account. When you come home again, 
we’ll get up a little dance for you.” 

Ma’am Grigou planted herself in the doorway, and 
looked in a questioning way at the landscape, as if she 
expected some solution of the mystery as to the route 
which the fugitives had taken. But perhaps there was 
a better way of getting information. The children, who 
were hovering round, might know something about the 
affair. Perhaps they had been a witness of the whole 
transaction. She put on a smile, and tried to make her 
voice soft and sweet : — 

Little dears ! Little dears ! ” 

The children drew back. She moved forward. They 
shrank back still farther. She tried the effect of 
bribery. . . 

“Wouldn’t you like some cakes You shall have 
some, my dears.” 

Their terror was appeased ; they were reassured by 
the prospect of sweets. Ma’am’ Grigou went on with 
her questions. 


2/2 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


‘‘ Did you see a funny looking man running away 
from here ? ” 

No/^ 

A black man, all covered with feathers ? 

Oh, the beast ! ” one of the little boys said, by way 
of correction. 

The beast, — that’s it, — yes, the beast.’' 



“We saw him.” 


“ Come here, Grigou,” called Perpetuity, delighted 
with her idea of examining the children ; “ come here 
quick, and listen to what these little ones are saying. 
They saw the savage going away. Perhaps they know 
which way he went.” She went on with her question- 
ing : “ How did he go } On horseback ? ” 

“ No.” 


OLD GRIGOU^S SORROW. 


273 


‘‘He went afoot ? ” 

“Yes; he was running. He ran — he ran — like- the 
wind ! ” 

“ Why did he run, my sweet child } ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ He was running after the horse,” interrupted 
another little boy, with a big tear in the seat of his 
trousers, — the result of his sudden descent from the 
tree. 

“ What } After the horse 1 Then the horse was 
running too ^ ” 

“ Yes, it was, with the little girl.” 

“ There was a little girl, then } ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ On the horse } ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ But why was the little girl on the horse } ” 

“ Dunno.” 

“ She fell,” said one of the other children. 

“ Fell from where ” 

“ From up there.” 

“From where the monkey is ” demanded the show- 
man. 

They nodded assent. It was not very clear. The 
little girl fell from the tree, the horse carried her away, 


274 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


and Jack went running after. What sort of a fairy tale 
was this } ’’ 

‘‘Just listen,” said Perpetuity be patient and listen. 
The children are not lying.” She asked another ques- 
tion. “Was the little girl with you ? ” 

“Yes,” they answered. 

The most eloquent of the little strangers now at- 
tempted in extremely vague and uncertain language to 
explain how they had organized an army and gone out 
to warfare, commanded by the little girl general ; how 
they had lost their way, and had come to the place 
where the beast was, had chased the monkey, and how 
the little girl came to fall. 

“ Where did you come from ? ” asked the showman. 

“ From Orgeville.” 

“ From Orgeville ? ” Grigou • felt his heart sink 
within him. A frightful suggestion darted through his 
mind. “ And the little girl, — do you know what her 
name was 

“ Why, of course ; it was Suzette ! ” exclaimed the 
children in chorus. 

“Heaven have mercy!” exclaimed the showman, 
almost swooning. “ Suzette ! But — but — it was my 
granddaughter — she fell — the horse carried her away, 
— why, she will be killed — she will be killed ! ” 


OLD GRIGOU^S SORROW, 


275 


In his agony he made such wild gestures, and uttered 
such peculiar sounds, and sobbed and gasped so, that 
the children were frightened, and ran away as fast as 
they could go toward the village, and were no more 
seen that night. The showman came to his senses, and 
stammered to his wife, who was as much frightened as 
he, — 

She was here. Why did I go away } Destiny is 
punishing me for the evil I have done. But why should 
vengeance fall on Suzette, — our poor little Suzette, — 
who even at this minute may perhaps be ” — 

In the tree above them. Zany, to whom nothing was 
sacred, made as if he were weeping also, wiping his 
dry eyes with his little fists. 


2/6 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


XXVII. 

HOURS OF ANGUISH. 

Night fell, casting grim shadows among the trees, 
and deepening the mystery which hung over the flight 
of the departed savage. Old Grigou, like every nomad, 
knew that the earth is an excellent conductor of 
sounds. He put his ear to the turf and listened, hop- 
ing that he might detect the furious gallop of a horse or 
cries of alarm. Only a vague rumbling, like an echoing 
hymn of human activity, sounded through the serenity 
of the darkness in response to his desire. He deter- 
mined to organize search parties to go in pursuit of the 
fugitives. He ran around the camp, and looked at the 
grass, to see if he could detect any evidences of a trail. 
Close by the brook he found a horse’s footprint, freshly 
made in the moist earth. Theodulus must have gone 
that way ; but whither } 

In a thicket, close by, the shrubbery was thrust aside, 
and a broken branch from a hawthorn showed white, 
indicating that some one had gone in that direction. 


HOURS OF ANGUISH 


277 


A significant detail informed them that Jack must have 
departed that way ; for a feather, torn from his disguise, 
was caught upon a thorn. 

At this moment Ma’am Grigou made a frightful dis- 
covery. At the foot of an oak she found a little stain 
of blood. Who had been wounded } Must it not have 
been Suzette ? A horrible dread seized upon her ; she 
was tortured and crushed by evil forebodings. Their 
little grandchild wounded ! As always happens when 
we are anxious about those we love, imagination sum- 
moned up the most cruel possibilities. Old Grigou and 
his wife beheld in fancy a tiny, breathless form, borne 
away by a wild and uncontrolled steed, which had been 
goaded to madness through lavish feeding ! 

As the darkness deepened and added to their suffer- 
ings, they decided to go to the village and beg the 
assistance of the mayor. The drummers would go about 
the streets and cry the news. The farm-hands would 
assemble for the hunt after the fugitive horse ; they 
would rummage the thickets, the groves, and the fields ; 
and if the child had fallen from the animal’s back and 
been stunned, or had fainted, they would care for her, 
and bring her home. 

‘‘Wife, you stay here, in case, you know, that they 
should come back and bring her. We can’t tell 


2/8 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

what may happen. As for me, I’ll go and see the 
mayor.” 

'' It’s all our fault ; I can see that,” said Ma’am Gri- 
gou. It’s all our fault. We tried to be very secret, 
and not let Suzanne know that her grandparents were 
in the show business. We didn’t tell the truth, and our 



deceit has been punished. Poor little Suzanne, if 
you are only alive and well, and in a condition to know 
the truth, it is all the happiness that I ask for now ! ” 
The grief of the showman and his wife was so 
sincere that it was really touching. Their punish- 
ment was so cruel that it evoked compassion. They 
were transformed by misfortune. Their faces lost the 
hard and forbidding expression which had been com- 


HOURS OF ANGUISH. 


279 



mon to them in other days ; and .it seemed as if the 
agony in their hearts softened their countenances. 
Their voices expressed high and noble emotions. 
They were transfig- 
ured through their 
tears. It is a pa- 
thetic sight, is it 
not, to see even the 
wicked weep } 

The showman set 
out for the village, 
while his wife re- 
mained at the camp, 
and with frantic 
eyes searched the 
horizon, seeking 
constantly for 
some trace of the 
fugitives. She 
looked at the 
ground anew, hop- 
ing to find footprints ; but the dry earth gave no 
further sign of the direction taken by the horse and 
the children. She went to the nearest house and 
made inquiries there ; but the woman in charge had 


28 o 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


seen nothing. Herders were getting their flocks back 
to the fold, but none of them had any news to give 
Ma’am Grigou. 

She went on and on, unconscious of fatigue, crazed 
by anxiety, stopping now and then to call Suzanne ! 
Suzanne!” Her voice floated away into space, or 
came back to her in menacing and ironical echoes 
from the sides of the gorges and the valleys. 

With streaming eyes and heaving breast, she sank 
tremblingly upon a heap of stones left by workmen at 
the roadside. She was fairly dazed with misery. In 
thought she was still searching the whole countryside. 
Whither could they have gone Not a hint, not a 
trace, — it seemed as if nature itself were in a plot to 
baffle her, and to crush all her hopes. No one had seen 
anything, no one offered her the slightest aid in search- 
ing for her granddaughter. Not far away, she dis- 
cerned a deep ravine, and hastened there, a prey to 
poignant anxiety. What if Suzanne had fallen in } 
She leaned over the edge in terror, but could see noth- 
ing, and called once more, ‘‘ Suzanne ! Suzanne I Lit- 
tle Suzanne ! ” 


A VISIT TO THE MAYOR. 


281 


XXVIII. 


A VISIT TO THE MAYOR. 


The showman explained his troubles to the village 
authorities, and asked the mayor to allow the drummer 
to go about the streets and call for assistance in search- 
ing for the lost child. 



For you see,” said 
Grigou, ^Tt’s my grand- 


daughter that I care 
about. 'Theodulus may 
go to blazes, and that 
infernal rascal. Jack, 
may go with him. But 


Suzette, — that’s what |j\f ^ 

we call her, gentlemen, 

Suzette, — I beg of you, do what you can to find 
her and give her back to me. If you will do this I 
am ready to pay anything, although it is true that I am 
far from being a rich man.” 

The news aroused a great sensation. The village 


282 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


gossips expatiated on the wickedness of the awful 
beast, which no doubt, at the sight of a pretty child, 
had carried her off in its clutches. Didn’t everybody 
remember the picture which the village dressmaker 
had tacked to her walls, depicting a wild man of the 
woods, bearing off in his hairy arms a beautiful white 
woman, snatched from a carriage that had broken 
down } 

, Your savage was like the wild man of the woods,” 
said the women. 

‘‘Oh, no; not at all,” replied the showman; “he was 
just like the rest of us.” 

“That’s not the way you talked yesterday. You 
say so now, to relieve yourself of the responsibility for 
taking such a destructive creature around the country. 
He carried off your granddaughter ; but it might have 
been one of our children, just as well. It was a lucky 
chance that our little ones were not there.” 

“My good women,” said the deputy mayor, “hold 
your tongues. This poor man is more deserving of 
pity than of blame. We will help him first to find his 
granddaughter ; after that, we shall see.” 

“ After that, you had better catch the savage,” said 
the women, “ and not let him run loose over the coun- 
try. We don’t want that sort of thing going on around 
here.” 


A VISIT TO THE MAYOR^ 


283, 


The village drummer, summoned in great haste, pro- 
ceeded to warn everybody of the loss of a little girl, 
who had probably been carried away by a savage on 
horseback. 



That isn’t it at all,” old Grigou objected. 

'' Never you mind, my good fellow,” said the mayor ; 
you can’t pull the wool over our eyes. You had some 
sort of a wild beast in your possession, and he’s done 
you up, — that’s clear enough. Another time, you’ll be 
more careful, and we too. You won’t have the chance 


284 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

again to come skirmishing around here with your Pipi- 
rikiki. We are honest and peaceful folks ; and we have 
no use for animals which come from we know not 
where, and live we know not how.” 

Old Grigou would willingly have told the truth, and 
confessed that the pretended savage was only a boy 
from the Paris streets, painted black and covered with 
feathers ; but the falsehood he had already told blocked 
the way to any such explanation. The great trouble 
with a lie is that it closes doors behind it, and rarely 
allows us the privilege of opening them again to 
get back to the right place. The showman had lied 
about Jack, and felt obliged to stick to what he had 
said. Having declared that he had a genuine savage 
in his possession, he would not be believed if he un- 
dertook now to explain that the savage was, no savage 
at all. He would be confronted with the assertion he 
had previously made, and they would say to him : 

Either you lied before, or you are lying now ; which 
of your two statements are we to accept as the truth?” 
It would be very embarrassing to be called upon to an- 
swer such a question as that ! 

‘^That's what comes of lying,” said old Grigou to 
himself, as he went away ; and he resolved thereafter to 
say only what he knew was right. It was an excellent 


A VISIT TO THE MAYOR. 


285 


resolution ; but it is greatly to be feared that the old 
showman was too hardened a sinner to reform all at 
once. 

At the camp he found his wife weeping, with her 
head in her hands. Well ” he said. 

IVe bebn everywhere. Fm all used up — I couldn’t 
stir another step. Fve searched and asked questions ; 
no one has seen anything. Where can she be } Where 
can they be ” 

No more was said. In the darkness and silence 
nothing was heard but Ma’am Grigou’s sobs. They 
could not sleep. At dawn they went out to the front 
of the camp, not daring to confide to one another the 
terrible fears that possessed them. The woman spoke 
first, — V 

My man,” she said, we are getting our punishment 
for the way we treated little Jack. There’s something 
in the nature of things that looks out for those who 
are made unhappy by others. We may do wrong, but 
sooner or later we’ve got to pay for it.” 

'' Hush, wife, hush ! ” whispered the showman, as if 
unwilling to listen to the open avowal of a truth the 
force of which he was unable to deny. 

‘'Well, here we are,” the woman went on, her eyes 
downcast, and her hands crossed upon her lap ; “ we’ve 


286 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


lost our granddaughter and the horse and the savage. 
It looks as if we had about got to the end of things.” 



How keenly they remembered the hardness, the 
roughness, the injustice, of which they had been guilty ! 
Certainly the hour for balancing accounts had come. 


A VISIT TO THE MAYOR. 28 / 

Ma’am Grigou was silent, absorbed in the bitterness of 
her own thoughts. 

Wife ? ” said old Grigou. 

‘‘What.?” 

The showman had seized his hat and stick, and was 
about to set forth on another tour of inquiry, when one 
of the villagers came up, and asked, — 

“ Is this Mr. Grigou .? ” 

“Yes,” said the showman; “what do you want of 
me .? ” 

“We’ve got news.” 

“ News .? ” exclaimed Ma’am Grigou impatiently. 
^‘Tell us what the news is — tell us at once, my good 
fellow ! ” 

“ I don’t know the details. All I know is that the 
mayor said to me, ‘ Go find the showman, and tell him 
we’ve got news.’ ” 

“ I’ll go at once,” said Grigou, his heart sinking 
within him. 

“ I’ll go with you,” said his wife earnestly. 

“ No, Perpetuity ; you stay here. Somebody ought 
to be here to look after things.” And the showman set 
forth for the mayor’s office, where they were waiting 
for him. 


288 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


XXIX. 

SUZETTE IS FOUND. 

The mayor’s office was not exactly a monument of 
architectural splendor. It was an old and rustic build- 
ing ; and there, in a great bare room, with cold, forbid- 
ding, whitewashed walls, in the presence of a bust 
draped with two flags, the mayor and his councillors 
assembled for their official duties. When the show- 
man got there, two policemen were guarding the door 
to the lockup, — a small cellar under the building, 
reached by a short flight of steps. 

‘‘ Come in, Mr. Grigou ; come in ! ” called the mayor. 

We have been waiting for you for some time.” 

<< My granddaughter } ” demanded the showman first 
of all. 

She has been found.” 

A smile of joy lit up the face of the questioner — a 
smile expressive of so much solicitude, as well as of de- 
light, that it revealed in a flash all the sufferings that 
he had undergone. Almost fainting, he stumbled and 


SUZETTE IS FOUND. 


289 


leaned against the wall. He looked so white that they 
thought he was going to swoon. They offered him a 
glass of strong wine, and he drank it down as if it had 
been skimmed milk. 


Suzette is found — my little Suzette ! She is 
alive } ” 

^^Yes, alive.’’ 

His rough hands grasped the hands of those about 
him. He was so wildly happy that he couldn’t resist 
the impulse to embrace somebody ; and it was the 



290 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


village cooper, the deputy mayor, who received this 
salute. He shed so many tears, that one of the by- 
standers said, — 

It’s lucky you aren’t bottling wine, just now. 
There’d be more tears than grape-juice in the bot- 
tles ! ” 

The mayor’s wife 
came in, leading 
Suzette — and what 
a looking object ! 
Grigou had never 
seen his pet in such 
a state as this be- 
fore. Her dress 
was in rags ; one 
foot was bare ; her 
hair was in a per- 
fect tangle ; she had a scratch on one hand, a cut on 
one cheek ; one eye was badly bruised, and the end of 
her dainty nose had suffered severely. Perceiving her 
grandfather, she acted as if she expected to be 
slapped. She threw up one arm to protect her face. 

'' Don’t be scared, Suzette,” the showman said ten- 
derly. I have found you — that’s the main thing. 
Ah, little wretch, what sorrow you have caused me ! ” 



SUZETTE IS FOUND. 


291 


That she had not fallen into some gully and broken 
her neck was nothing less than a miracle. They ex- 
plained to the showman that she had been found 
about three miles from Orgeville, in a potato-field. 

And who found her ? ” 

The farm laborers had seen her 
sitting on the ground at the edge 
of a spring. A strange 
creature, half beast, half 
human, — that is to say, 
old Grigou’s savage, — was 
with the utmost tender- 
ness washing the child’s 
bleeding hand, bathing its 
eyes, and rubbing its feet. 

Not far away stood a 
bridleless horse, panting 
with exhaustion. The 

savage called to the horse to come to him, and the 
horse came. 

The little girl seemed to be dazed, and did not speak. 
She made no resistance, but looked about her with ter- 
rified glances, and she was all in a tremble. To the 
great surprise of the onlookers, the savage began to 
speak to them in their own tongue, and explained that 



292 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


he belonged to Grigou’s show ; that the child had fallen 
from a tree onto the horse, and frightened the animal 
so that it ran away ; and that he, the savage, had run 
after the fugitives, to prevent an accident if possible, 
and by cutting across lots had succeeded in intercepting 
the flying steed, to whose back the little girl was still 
clinging with all her might. 

‘‘Then it wasn’t the savage who carried away my 
granddaughter } ” 

“ It seems not.” 

“ No, grandpa,” said Suzette, now for the first time 
venturing to speak ; “ no, the horse carried me away. 
But you mustn’t beat him — mustn’t beat the horse, 
grandpa. I was tumbled on his back, and he was 
Traid. He ran away. Oh, what long legs he has, and 
how fast he runs ! ” 

She did not understand how much the extra feed had 
to do with this extraordinary manifestation of activity 
on the part of Theodulus. The worthy animal had 
been placed in a stable. They went to visit him. 

“ Here you are, you rascal ! ” said the showman. 

Suzette reached up to the horse’s nose and patted 
him softly. 

“ And the savage } ” asked Grigou. 

“ We can’t be too careful,” said the mayor, “ with 


SUZETTE IS FOUND. 


293 


creatures of this sort. I had him put in the lockup, 
and have ordered two policemen to guard the door.'’ 

He’s very gentle,” said Suzette ; I want to see 
him.” 



They went to the lockup, and one of the police- 
men ordered the unhappy Jack to come out. The 
poor fellow was in a pitiable condition. The black 
had come partly off his hands ; perspiration had left 
long white channels on his face ; his feather head- 


294 THREE APPRENTICES. 

dress was mostly gone ; one knee was bleeding ; he 
limped. 

Suzette threw her arms about his neck. O my 
dear friend, my dear friend ! ” she exclaimed. She said 
‘‘ fer-end,” and it sounded very droll — My dear 
fer-end ! ” 

Her dear friend had lost his alert bearing, and had 
become as timid as he had formerly been courageous 
and daring. He cast frightened looks at the bystanders, 
and remained mute, not daring to speak his mother 
tongue in the boss’s presence. 

We’ve talked enough,” said the mayor ; we must 
get to our daily work. Grigou, your granddaughter 
and your horse are restored to you ; you may take 
them away. As for your savage, although he looks 
innocent enough, and has behaved in a very brave and 
humane manner, I shall put him in charge of the police. 
The whole village has been turned upside down since 
yesterday, and popular alarm must be quelled.” 

Jack clinched his fists. What abominable injustice! 
He had saved the child, and they treated him as if he 
were a criminal. The showman interposed, — 

‘^He’s white, just like us; and think how good he 
has been to my granddaughter ! ” 

He’s a fine fellow, no doubt,” said the mayor ; but 


SUZETTE IS FOUND, 


295 


the people are very uneasy. We will arrange this later 
on. The council, moreover, has passed judgment on 
the case. I will read it to you. Here it is : — 

'' ^ It appearing that Grigou, the showman, keeps in 
his booth an animal with a human face, a sort of black 
man, that alarms the whole country, frightening chil- 
dren and old persons, and even poultry ; it appearing, 
moreover, that he has run away with a child, or is 
accused of having done so, the council decides : — 

The showman’s savage, if he is caught, shall 
be put in charge of the police. 

‘ 2. If he is kept at the booth, he shall be chained. 
‘ 3. The showman is ordered to leave the country 
within the next forty-eight hours.’ ” 

‘‘ This is great luck for me ! ” exclaimed Grigou. ‘‘ I 
meet with misfortune, and you send me away ! ” 

‘^And you chain me up because I’ve been good,” 
murmured Jack. If evil is punished in this world, 
ought not goodness to be rewarded } ” 

They can do what they like,” Suzette whispered 
in the ear of her ‘‘ dear friend ” — ‘‘ I love you from 
my heart ! ” 

The procession started — in front the police, and 
between them Jack, head down, crying, mocked at, 
jeered at, and limping. Then came the showman and 


296 THE THREE APPRENTICES. 

his granddaughter, and at a distance, bringing up the 
rear, Theodulus. 

Ma’am Grigou was standing in the middle of the 
road. She saw them a good way off, and she lifted 
her arms and swung them about so expressively, that 
she was equal to an old-fashioned telegraph. 

Jack’s deliverance seemed to draw near. Suzette 
betrayed no surprise at coming to live with the show- 
man. Being an acrobat’s daughter, the occupation of 
her grandparents appeared to be quite natural. They 
had done wrong in trying to conceal it from her. She 
was very, much more at home with them, and more at 
her ease, than with the farmer’s family, where her wild 
spirits and madcap antics found little sympathy. 

She told the story of her adventures with that gentle 
grace and those flashes of wilfulness which belonged to 
her. The old people were softened by her influence. 
The deep affection which she manifested for Jack 
was contagious. They, in turn, felt kindly toward the 
lad, and sought some way in which to testify to their 
gratitude. 

Suzette, on the eve of returning to the farmhouse, 
sat on her grandfather’s knees. She toyed with his 
mustache, smoothed his hair, and whispered in his ear 
one last request. 


SUZETTE IS FOUND. 


297 



Grandpa, dear, I want you to love my dear friend 
just as much as you love your little Suzette.” 

And what is it that your dear friend wants ? 

‘‘ He wants not to be a savage any more.” 


It shall be as you wish, Suzette. I give my 
promise.” 

O grandpa ! ” 

That night, when the little girl was about to set out 
for the farm, accompanied by her grandmother, old 
Grigou said, — 


298 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


‘‘You can thank her, Jack ; she has asked me to set 
you at liberty, and Tve promised.” 

“Thank you, Suzette,” said Jack. “ Oh, I do thank 
you ! But shall we never see each other again } ” 

Poor Jack’s heart was full of sorrow. P'or the first 
time in his life, parting brought a feeling of profound 
regret. It seemed to him that he would be contented 
to be a savage all his life if Suzette were only there ! 


AT THE NEUILLY FAIR. 


299 


XXX. 

AT THE NEUILLY FAIR. 

Deliverance would have been speedy for Jack if it 
had not been for old Grigou’s misfortunes ; and then, 
again, what was Jack to do with himself if he were set 
at liberty } The showman, his wife, and the lad held a 
consultation. They decided that they would remain in 
company for the rest of the season, and that Pipirikiki 
should make his appearance, newly painted and feath- 
ered, at the Neuilly Fair. 

One day, as he sprang on the stage, having previ- 
ously glanced over the audience from his place of re- 
tirement, he was very near swooning. With a gesture 
of alarm, which the spectators thought was inspired by 
fear of the resolute and confident air assumed by the 
audience. Jack recoiled to the very walls of the booth. 
In the “ orchestra circle,” in the very first row, he had 
seen his two comrades from the workshop, and the fore- 
man, Mr. Griffin. He trembled lest his identity be dis- 
covered ; but he soon saw by the interested expression 


300 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


on their faces, where no astonishment whatever was 
exhibited, that to them he was not their former associ- 
ate, Jack the thief, but Pipirikiki, the savage from the 
ocean isles. This conviction pleased him greatly. 


When he sang, however, the quality of his voice, 
disguise it as he might, seemed to impress Mr. Griffin, 
who looked at him scrutinizingly ; the tones thus heard 
aroused vague recollections. The impression passed, 
and Mr. Griffin did not recognize him. 

It’s ’impossible that they should know me in this 



AT THE NEUILLY FAIR, 


301 


makeup,” thought Jack. My mother herself, if living, 
would deny that I was her son. Jack the apprentice 
is no more ; he is now simply a cannibal, who makes 
amusement for grown people, and scares little children.” 

Thus his thoughts ran while he was dancing ; and 



then all of a sudden a dog, giving signs of the most 
frantic joy, sprang on the stage, frolicked about him, 
bounced against his legs, and finally, with its hind paws 
on the cash-box (an empty show of financial solidity), 
leaped so high as to get its forefeet on Jack’s breast, 
and to lick his face. 

Call off your dog,” shouted old Grigou, ‘‘or I’ll not 


302 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


be responsible for the consequences ! The savage 
would eat him up as quick as he would a raw chicken.” 
Just now, however, it looked as if the dog would devour 
the savage. 

‘‘ Bisquine ! ” called John, '' Bisquine, come here ! ” 
But Bisquine, who had recognized her master, continued 
her ardent attentions, in spite of the showman’s efforts 
to drive her away. 

‘'That’s very queer,” said Mr. Griffin. 

Bisquine kept licking Pipirikiki’s face ; and under her 
moistly affectionate caresses the black began to come 
off. The audience could see patches of pink skin 
beneath the paint. 

“ He’s no savage — he’s painted ! ” they called out 
on all sides. 

One whole side of the victim’s face was soon laid 
bare ; and at the sight the two apprentices in the front 
row recognized their long-lost friend. 

“Jack! It’s Jack!” they exclaimed in amazement. 
“ You can’t fool Bisquine.” 

The showman was furious, and did not know which 
to blame most, his savage or the dog. The savage 
darted behind the curtain, and the dog followed 
him. 

“ Dirty beasts ! ” roared Grigou. He jumped on the 


AT THE NEUILLY FAIR, 


303 


platform, intent upon pursuit. Mr. Griffin touched 
him on the arm. 

Just one word. If you know what’s good for you, 
you’ll let that boy and that dog alone.” 



The showman turned, with an ugly look in his eyes. 
'' What affair is it of yours } Do you belong to the 
police } I don’t take orders from anybody but the 
police. You mind your own business ! ” 

The two apprentices stood with necks outstretched 


304 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


toward the hiding-place of the savage, dazed with emo- 
tion. Could it possibly have been Jack ? ” said John. 
His companion, eager to make sure, tried to get behind 
the screen, but was confronted by Ma’am Grigou, who 
struck him roughly in the back. John went to John- 
nie’s assistance ; and meanwhile the discussion between 
Mr. Griffin and the showman was continued in very 
vigorous language. 

‘‘ You’ve no right to detain this lad,” said the fore- 
man ; ‘‘ I shall appeal to the police.” 

At the mention of the police, Grigou, whose con- 
science was not altogether easy, speedily calmed down. 

Well, now, see here ; we don’t want any such talk 
as that. Everything can be arranged quietly. I took 
in the little chap when he was starving, and have kept 
him fed ; in exchange for that he has helped me out 
with my show. One good turn deserves another. As 
you are his boss, if you want to take him away, you 
can ; you don’t need to call on the police for help.” 
Then he shouted a summons, '‘Hey there. Feathers! 
come here 1 ” 

The savage did not seem to be animated by any 
desire to obey this order ; in fact, the more they called 
him, the farther he shrank into his corner, with the 
determination not to come out. 


AT THE NEUILLY FAIR. 


305 


‘‘ Go along ; they want you, darkey. We know who 
you are now,” said John, ‘'thanks to Bisquine.” 

Bisquine, in fact, had manifested her joy so radiantly 
that Jack’s face fairly shone with its reflected glory. 
The dear little beast looked with satisfaction at the 
friendly washing she had given him, panting with 
extended tongue — a very black tongue, be it said ; 
for it had absorbed a large proportion of the coloring 
that had made Jack a savage. 

“You are recognized,” said Mr. Griffin. “Why do 
you try to hide away from us .^ ” 

“I’m not hiding,” said Jack; “but I’m ashamed.” 

“You have reason enough for that,” said the fore- 
man, in a dry, harsh tone. 

“Poor Jack, — he is so unhappy!” interposed John. 

“And so very funny also,” observed Johnnie. 

The difficulty was to get him away. No doubt Jack 
would consent to go when he was assured that he would 
once more be pardoned, and that he was not going to 
be sent to prison ; but he could not, of course, return 
to Paris masquerading as a savage. 

“ Dress yourself,” Mr. Griffin commanded. 

Dress himself in what } What had become of his 
clothes ? Ma’am Grigou made a pretence of hunting 
for them ; but it was only a pretence, for she had 


3o6 the three apprentices. 

sold them. After all, what was the use of talking 
about clothes at this stage of the affair. He couldn’t 
put on clothes till he had got his feathers off. 

They smuggled him into a cab, which Bisquine pro- 
ceeded to occupy, with a comical air of proprietorship. 
Sitting by the side of their newly found comrade, John 
and Johnnie looked at him with some degree of alarm ; 
for they had not yet recovered from their amazement. 
After a prolonged silence, filled with unspoken inquiry, 
John said, — 

Now tell us all about it.’' 

I’ll tell you by and by,” responded Jack, embar- 
rassed by the stern inspection of Mr. Griffin. 

What has happened will happen again,” said Mr. 
Griffin, ‘‘ if you go on in the old way. Bisquine may 
lick the black from your face, but, white or black, sav- 
age you are, and savage you will remain ; and rightly 
so, for your evil conduct will make you an outlaw 
among civilized people.” 

I’ll never do so any more,” repeated the unhappy 
wretch, who had gone through too many trials not to 
be repentant. But would his repentance last when the 
effects of his punishment were no longer fresh in his 
memory } 


GREAT EXCITEMENT IN MOON STREET 307 


XXXI. 

GREAT EXCITEMENT IN MOON STREET 

It was Mother Bonnet who got the first shock of 
surprise in Moon Street. When she opened the door 
and found herself face to face with a half black, be- 
feathered creature, she nearly swooned with fright. 
'' It’s the Evil One himself ! ” she shrieked ; and then 
she crossed herself. The creature spoke in a whim- 
pering voice, — 

'' Dear Mother Bonnet ! ” it said. 

The good old dame was still further astonished, and 
crossed herself again. '^Heaven preserve us” she 
exclaimed ; he knows me by name ! ” 

John took hold of one corner of her apron. It’s 
only Jack,” he said. 

‘‘Yes, it’s Jack,” added Mr. Griffin, in serious con- 
firmation. 

“ Jack ? Jack ? Can it be possible ! ” Mother Bon- 
net raised her hands and let them fall in a gesture of 
complete stupefaction. Jack, come back in this guise, 


3o8 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


looking like an imp of darkness, with feathers all over 
him ? Where could he have been, the wretch, to get 
into such a mess as that ? 





You can easily imagine that a great sensation fol- 
lowed Jack’s advent. The news ran all through the 




GREAT EXCITEMENT IN MOON STREET 309 

quarter, and it was told from one to another, that a 
savage had come to live in Moon Street. The next day 
it was in all the newspapers. Crowds assembled before 
the house, and the police had all they could do to get 
the people to disperse. They shouted for the savage. 
Jack heard the roaring of the turbulent crowd, and 
trembled in every blackened limb. 

The day after his arrival Mr. Dupont made him tell 
the story of his experiences. What should be done 
with the little sinner.? When he first heard of Jack’s 
return, Mr. Dupont had said, — 

‘‘ Don’t wash him ; I want to make an example of 
him.” 

From this you might perhaps think that he intended 
to have Jack led around Moon Street with a ring in his 
nose, as a hair-dresser’s advertisement ; but Mr. Dupont 
was only joking when he said that. He had a much 
more serious purpose in view. 

He determined on a judicial inquiry ; and in the work- 
shop, after the men had gone, he organized a tribunal, 
and took his seat as presiding justice, with Mr. Griffin 
on his right, and Mother Bonnet on his left. The 
accused was seated on a stool before them. John and 
Johnnie represented the public. It was a solemn 
moment when Mr. Dupont said to Jack, — 


310 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


Prisoner, stand up ! ” 

Mother Bonnet was unable to restrain her emotions. 
She was touched to the heart. She made believe blow 
her nose, but everybody could see that she was crying. 

When Jack, in his ridiculous guise, stood up, a shiver 
ran through the audience. John and Johnnie were 



greatly moved, and turned pale. Jack put his arm 
across his face, as if by covering his eyes he hoped 
to hide his shame. Mr. Grififin proceeded to address 
the prisoner. His voice was very serious ; he reviewed 
Jack’s life in a few words. \ 

It is now a year since you came to this establish- 
ment, and in that year you have made a very discredit- 
able record. Having no liking for work, you have 


GREAT EXCITEMENT IN MOON STREET 3I I 


sought only for means of diversion, and you have 
chosen the most reprehensible means to attain it. 
Wrong-doing is contagious. You led your comrades 
astray by getting them to go with you to the theatre. 
That was very bad ; but your offence was pardoned. 
Then, loitering on an errand, you joined in a game of 
marbles with a gang of thieves, and had your jewellery 
stolen from you. Again you were pardoned. It was 
right that you should make good the loss caused by 
your shameful conduct. It was no more than fair that 
you should pay, out of your own earnings, for the jew- 
ellery you had lost. When the time approached for 
the final payment, you fell short in your savings, 
and then ” — 

Have pity, sir ! ” Jack supplicated. Mr. Griffin was 
not softened. He went on, — 

‘‘ And then the idea of a still greater crime came 
into your thoughts. Your comrades had a little store 
of money, and you discovered where it was kept. One 
night, with stealthy steps, like a malefactor, you stole 
from your bed down-stairs on tiptoe in the darkness, 
and went toward the place where the wealth you cov- 
eted was hidden — 

Mother Bonnet kept on saying to herself, Ah, 
Heaven have mercy ! Ah, Heaven have mercy ! ” 


312 


THE THREE APPRENTICES, 


‘‘ Yes, I Stole ; I did steal ; I am a thief ! said Jack ; 
and he fell on his knees. Mr. Dupont turned toward 
Mr. Griffin, and said, ‘‘ Go on.'' 

Have you considered sufficiently," Mr. Griffin con- 
tinued, ‘‘the consequences of a theft which carried its 
own punishment with it ? Remember, this money had 
been put aside for you, as a surprise. Those who were 
saving it up intended to say when the time came, 
‘Here, Jack, you are a thoughtless spendthrift; we 
have collected this money to save you from the results 
of your carelessness and neglect.' The money was, in 
fact, a testimonial of very rare and disinterested friend- 
ship. One day it disappeared. Who had taken it } 
The very person to whom it was to be given ! Ah, 
decidedly. Jack, you were guilty of the basest ingrati- 
tude ; you were suspected, convicted, and locked up, like 
a professional criminal, and you succeeded in escaping 
from confinement. You joined the travelling showmen ; 
and this is the condition in which you return. Jack, 
answer me, — is not what I have said perfectly true } " 
Profound silence fell upon the little company. Mr. 
Griffin asked again, “ Jack, is it not true } " 

In a voice so weak and low that it could scarcely 
be heard, — a voice like the soft, plaintive wail of an 
infant, — Jack responded, — 


GREAT EXCITEMENT IN MOON STREET 315 

“ It is true.” 

‘‘Prisoner, you may be seated;” but Jack remained 
on his knees. Mr. Dupont went on ; he had evidently 
come to a serious determination. 

“ The question now is,” he said, “ what is to be done 
with this confessed thief } Every crime must have its 
punishment. What punishment shall be visited upon 
him .? ” 

Mother Bonnet now interposed. “ It is my turn 
now to speak. Yes, Jack has been very wicked; he 
has done wrong, but he has been punished. Give 
him one more trial. Be merciful, Mr. Charles ! He 
will promise his old Mother Bonnet not to do so any 
more. You will promise, will you not. Jack } There, 
you see, Mr. Charles, he nodded his head ; he promises ; 
he will not do so any more. Let us be merciful to 
those that do wrong and are sorry ! ” 

“ What is your advice, Mr. Griffin } ” 

“ I believe that his repentance is genuine ; he made 
that clear by trying to give back ten francs of the 
stolen money. But if we pardon him it will be for 
the third time, and in such affairs the third time is 
always the last.” 

“ It is very clear, Mr. Griffin, that you are on the 
side of mercy. I cannot, however, inflict association 


314 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


with a thief upon honest apprentices against their will. 
John, are you willing that he should remain ? ” 

'' Oh, yes, sir ; I beg of you to let him do so.” 

And you, Johnnie ? ” 

I also, sir.” 

^'You are all too lenient,” Mr. Dupont declared. 

I am in favor of more severity. Promises 
are easily made, and repentance is easily 
forgotten. What pledge has this mis- 
erable wretch given us ? None. If in 
all his career, filled as it has 
been with shameful actions, we 
could find the record of but one 
good deed pleading in his behalf, 
— one single, noble, generous 
deed, coming straight from the 
heart ” — 

At this moment a furious scratching was heard at 
the door; it was opened, and Bisquine rushed joyously 
in, sniffing the air with her moist nose, and shaking 
her tail with pleasure. She ran to her master, who 
was still kneeling, as if to testify to her friendship 
and gratitude. 

‘‘Yes,” she seemed to say in the language of affec- 
tion ; “ one good deed at least stands to his credit, — 



G 7 ^£A T EXCITEMENT IN MOON STREE T 315 

he saved a poor dog that was being abused, and he 
did this with no hope of reward.” 

‘‘ Stand up, Jack,” said Mr. Dupont ; “ you will re- 
main with us. Bisquine has saved you as you once 
saved her. If wrong-doing calls for punishment, it is 
no less true that a generous action should have its 
recompense.” 

At this joyful announcement every one drew a long 
breath. Johnnie outdid Bisquine in frantic demonstra- 
tions of delight. John, more reserved in manner, made 
up his mind to watch over his comrade, and to keep 
him from falling into his old ways. As for Jack, they 
took him to the dormitory, and proceeded to scrub 
him. They soaked him ir a barrel up to his neck ; 
and a week later he was still soaking. 


THE THREE APPRENTICES. 


316 


EPILOGUE. 


Old Grigou no longer follows the calling of wander- 
ing showman. A savage like Jack is not discovered 
every day in the year. Losing Jack, he lost his for- 
tune. He found 
employment a s 
laborer on the 
farm where his 
granddaughter 
was being brought 
up. 

Theodulus, at 
the same farm, 
draws a cart ; and his 
philosophy, which is adapt- 
able to all callings, makes 
him content. 

Jack now works alongside 
of his comrades, John and Johnnie, and is thought 
well of. 



Suzette has been to make a visit in Moon Street 


EPILOGUE. 


317 


and her story of Jack’s noble behavior has awakened 
profound sympathy. Since then, everybody has joined 
with Suzette in calling Jack dear friend.” 

And Zany } He went back to his cage, goaded by 
hunger. He is at the Zoological Gardens, enjoying a 
government pension, — a sort of official monkey, as 
it were, who for the favors bestowed upon him repays 
the public as a monkey naturally would. 








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